Under the Blacklight
by mercurymoon7490195
Summary: Marik needed a place to stay after Battle City. The place he chose would make all the difference. AU Thiefshipping.
1. Marik Moves In

Ryou shook the rain out of his hair as he stepped through the doorway of the apartment, exhausted from a long day at school. He kicked off his shoes in their usual spot, and threw his soggy coat on its usual hook. Half awake, he trudged out to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Several minutes later he entered the small living room and sat down in his chair, closing his eyes as he sipped his perfectly warm tea. And for a brief second, it felt like one of those moments that nothing could ruin.  
>There was a knock on the door, which made him jump, a tiny bit of tea sloshing over the side of his cup. "Just a minute!" he called out, setting the cup on a coaster and standing on tiptoe to see through the peephole at who it was. A distorted purple eye stared back at him.<br>"Marik?!" Ryou asked, opening the door a tiny bit. "What do you want?"  
>Marik stared awkwardly at the ground. "Actually, can I come in? I have something to ask you."<br>Ryou hesitated. He recognized the Egyptian from Battle City, and his still-hazy arm incident. _I'm not going through that again,_ he thought, about to shut the door in Marik's face. But Marik was dripping wet from the rain, and his eyes looked so sad...  
>"Come on in," Ryou said quietly, holding the door open. "I just put some tea on, do you want some?"<br>"Okay..." Marik followed him in, a small bag slung over his shoulder. Ryou handed him a towel that he kept by the door for when it rained before returning to the kitchen to pour a second cup of tea."You can put your coat on the radiator if you want," he called out. "It'll dry faster that way." Marik did so, wringing the towel in his hands as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, looking around. It was fairly bare, decorated with only a few pictures on the fern green walls. All were nature shots, except for a large print of his native London. It was a shot along the river Thames, the camera tilted at a strange angle.  
>"My mother took that picture," Ryou said softly, handing Marik a mug. "It was the first thing I put up when I moved here."<br>"It's beautiful," Marik replied. He sipped his tea quietly, aware that Ryou was watching him out of the corner of his eye.  
>"So..."He said. "Pardon my asking, but why exactly are you standing in the middle of my living room commenting on my wall decor?"<br>Marik froze. "I mean," Ryou stammered, noticing the look on Marik's face. "Why are you here? I thought you went back to Egypt with your brother and sister."  
>"Oh, that," Marik said. "I-I decided to stay in Domino City for awhile. I've lived in that old tomb all my life...I didn't want to go back there just yet..."<br>Ryou nodded. "I know what you mean. So have you gone to see the museum yet?"  
>"Just as Ishizu was packing up," Marik said.<br>"The arcade?"  
>"Rode by it, didn't get a chance to stop by."<br>"Where are you staying then? A hotel?"  
>Marik grimaced. "That's actually what I came here to ask about."<br>"Ah," Ryou said quietly. He stirred his cup. "I'm not sure Bakura would like that..."  
>"But I thought that I-I mean the other me-"<br>"So did I," Ryou said. "I woke up and he was gone, and I thought for a second that it was for good...but no. In a few days he was back. Weak...but back."  
>"So, is he going to overhear this conversation?" Marik asked, attempting to sound conversationally curious...and failing.<br>Ryou shook his head. "He leaves occasionally. Well, not really leaves...retreats would be a better word for it. He goes into his soul room and leaves me alone for awhile. I think he's trying to find the millennium ring again."  
>Marik stopped. "Oh...does he know where it is then?"<br>"I have a feeling we'd know if he did...at least, I would." He sipped down the rest of his tea. "Are you sure you don't have anywhere else to go?"  
>"I'm sorry. I only ask because I really don't know what else to do." He fell to the floor at Ryou's feet. "It'll just be for a few days...I promise. Even if it's just on the couch. I'll even sleep in a corner for Ra's sake, please Ryou!"<br>Ryou stared down at him, his eyes wide. He knew Bakura would be unhappy-probably more than unhappy if he returned to find Marik in their apartment. But he couldn't just kick him out, not in the rain...and Bakura rarely went in the spare room...  
>"You don't have to go that far," he said, holding out a hand to help Marik to his feet. "We've got a spare room. I'll have to clean it out first, but-"<br>"Thank you!" Marik said, throwing his arms around the shocked Brit. Ryou blushed and stumbled down the hall as Marik grabbed his bag and followed his friend.

Ryou, Bakura's voice said, rousing him from an uneasy sleep. _There's someone in the apartment._  
>"No...no there isn't," Ryou murmured sleepily.<br>_Yes,_ Bakura insisted _There is. I sense a presence in the spare room, and you are going to investigate it. **Now.**_ Ryou tripped out of bed, the blankets trailing from his bed as Bakura mentally pushed him down the hall.  
>"I'm telling you there'snothing there," Ryou said loudly, dragging his feet on the carpet. Maybe Marik would wake up and have enough sense to hide-<br>-But too late. Bakura burst into the room, now in full control of his host. Marik sat bolt upright, looking wildly around for the source of the noise. His purple eyes widened as the brown ones glaring at him narrowed.  
>"You," Bakura hissed. He lunged for the bed but missed Marik by inches.<br>Marik stared bewildered as Bakura writhed on the floor, the two souls inside struggling for control.  
>"Don't hurt him!" Ryou shouted, his voice echoing from his soul room. "He's just staying for a few days!"<br>"Shut up, Ryou!" Bakura yelled. His hands flew to his chest, grasping for the ring he no longer had.  
>"What's so terrible about having him around?" Ryou asked, ignoring the spirit. Bakura's struggles lessened as he paused to think.<br>Marik walked hesitantly over to the figure in the corner. "Bakura?"  
>"What?!" Bakura's voice was dangerously quiet as the young man kneeled down beside him.<br>"If you want me to leave, I will." Marik said. "If I had known of your return, I would have asked you first...don't blame Ryou for his bleeding heart."  
>Bakura got to his feet, brusquely walking to the door. "Whatever. Stay if you want. I don't care." He stalked back to Ryou's room, leaving Marik kneeling on the floor, confused as hell.<p> 


	2. Alone Or Not

Marik awoke to grey skies, though the rain had long since stopped. Aside from the noises coming from various pipes and appliances, the apartment was silent. He sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he looked out over what he could see of Domino City. A cold draft passed over his bare chest and he shivered, pulling the quilt Ryou had given him around his shoulders.  
><em>Speaking of Ryou,<em> Marik thought. _What the hell was that last night? What was with Bakura?_With the quilt draped around himself like a cape, he rolled out of bed and headed to the kitchen, wondering if Bakura was still in the building. A scrawled note on the table answered his question.

**Marik. Ryou had to get to class. Don't burn the bloody house down while we're gone. -Bakura.**

Marik crumpled up the note in his hand, slightly hurt by the continuation of last night's brusque treatment. _What the hell is wrong with him?_  
><em>Maybe the question should be what the hell is wrong with you?<em> A tiny voice in his mind chuckled. Marik swore under his breath, burying his face in his hands. Though his dark side lacked the strength to take over his body, he never skipped an opportunity to make snide comments at Marik's expense. Physically, he had been rendered harmless. Mentally, however, was a different matter.  
><em>I'm not listening to you anymore,<em> Marik thought back sharply. He turned to the cupboard. Hopefully Bakura wouldn't mind if he helped himself for a tiny bit of breakfast. As he began pouring himself a bowl of cereal, his yami's criticism grew louder.  
><em>Come on, Marik. You know why Bakura is being this way. He trusted you once and you let him down, big time. Maybe if you hadn't tried to help by blathering on, both of you wouldn't have ended up in the shadow realm.<em>  
>"Shut up," Marik murmured quietly. "I told you, you're not in charge of me anymore."<p>

_And to top that off,_ Yami Marik continued,_You abandoned him to the shadows. Granted, I was the one who pulled you out of there, but still. You could have gone back to help him after defeating me, but no. You decided to help the Pharaoh instead. Goody-Two-Shoes Marik Ishtar. That's who you've become._  
>"Go to hell."<br>_You're just a little pussy, aren't you?_ His dark side's deranged laughter filled his mind, and Marik could almost see him gloating. _Couldn't hold up to the pressure of trying to change the world as Pharaoh, so you gave up. That's why I took over...you were better as me._  
>"You know what?" Marik asked, his knuckles white as he clutched his spoon. "At least I'm not afraid to admit that I was wrong. I know that I shouldn't have wanted vengeance on the pharaoh. After all, you were the one who killed my father...therefore you should be the one to pay for it. And seeing as you're the one without a body right now, I'd say that you have. So why can't you just leave me alone?<br>_Because you forfeited the duel. The pharaoh won, not you, all because you're a gutless coward. Look at yourself. Without me you're just a scared little child, hiding in the domain of a man you once called friend. Against his wishes, even. How long do you think his host will be able to keep him from killing you? Sooner or later he'll succumb to Bakura's will, and then so will you. An idiot could figure it out._ His ghostly image leaned in to whisper in Marik's ear. _Besides, you were the one who created me, out of your hatred for your life and your father. Yours, Marik. My existence is because of you. And when you fail, I'll be strong enough to take over your body...again._  
>"SHUT UP!" Marik screamed, picking up the bowl and throwing it at the shadowy figure. Yami Marik's face fled, his laughter fading into the distance as the bowl hit the opposite wall and shattered. <em>Just don't say I didn't warn you,<em> his dark side said in sing-song, retreating back into the shadows of Marik's mind.  
>Marik slid off the chair, kneeling down to pick up the shards of pottery scattered around the tiny kitchen. This was the fifth or sixth time his darker side had returned since Battle City's end, and the jolt of shock at his appearance was just as sharp now as it had been the first night. <em>He's just a memory,<em> Marik had told himself then, huddled under the covers of the room Ishizu had rented for herself before she returned to Egypt. _He's just a sick, twisted memory, and he'll go away soon._ But he hadn't. He had invaded Marik's dreams during the night, and still managed to appear in the waking hours, filling his head with every insecurity he could find.  
>"He's wrong," Marik whispered to himself, as he scrubbed the floor down with a paper towel. "He has to be."<br>"Wrong about what?"  
>Marik whirled around, the blanket falling to the floor as he jumped to his feet. Bakura stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised.<br>"Bakura, I didn't hear you-school can't be over yet, can it?" Marik said, guiltily hiding the bowl behind his back.  
>Bakura passed Marik, dropping Ryou's backpack on the chair and slinging open the refrigerator. "I'm just here for lunch. Leftovers are better than the shit they serve in that school. What the hell are you doing?"<br>"Nothing, just doing a little...cleaning." Marik said, improvising. "Thought I would surprise you. You know, for taking me in like you did."  
>"Uh-huh." Bakura said, unconvinced. "You know I don't give a damn about that bowl, right?" He rolled his eyes as Marik brought his hands out from behind his back, heading over to throw the pieces away in the garbage. "So what were you talking to yourself about earlier?"<br>Marik froze. He didn't exactly want to ask about last night, but then again...he had to know if his darker side had been right.  
>"Well..." He mused quietly. "We used to be friends, at least allies, during Battle City. But last night, I thought you were going to kill me. And I was wondering whether it was because you blame me for what happened. In the duel, I mean. For getting you-both of us-sent to the shadow realm."<br>Bakura drummed his fingers on the counter as his lunch cooked in the microwave. "I suppose it is, underneath it all."  
>"What?!" Marik yelped. <em>Told you so,<em> his yami taunted from a distant mental corner.  
>Bakura gave him a sideways glare. "What did you expect, Marik? I mean, you barged into my home without my permission, encouraged my host to keep secrets from me-"<br>"-I did nothing of the sort!" Marik butted in indignantly. "It's not my business what Ryou tells you and what he doesn't."  
>"Not only did you do all of these things," Bakura continued. "But all of this was after you left me in the bloody shadow realm just so you could play a bloody children's card game. Why else would I be angry at you?!"<br>"It's not like I wanted to leave you there," Marik argued. "My darker side fished me out so he could sacrifice me for a stupid shadow game. If I could have taken you with me, I would have, believe me!"  
>"But I don't," Bakura said coldly. The microwave beeps filled the silence as Marik gaped at him. Bakura sighed. "Even if you couldn't have taken me then, you could have come back...I waited, Marik. I waited for you, fighting off the shadows in hopes that just maybe I would get some help from your end of the line. I helped you in Battle City, so naturally I expected something in return. You know what I got? A fat lot of nothing, that's what. In the end I had to find my own way out, and I'll tell you it wasn't easy."<br>Marik slumped down next to him as Bakura wolfed down his reheated pizza. "So, now what then? We're done being friends? Are you going to kick me out?"  
>"No," Bakura said between bites, "But I think it would be best if you just stay in the spare room until you get your footing. Then I would like you to leave." Their eyes locked for a moment, before the violet pair dropped to the table top.<br>"I understand," Marik said quietly, hanging his head.  
>Bakura stood, tossing his garbage in the can. "Good. Two days should be enough. I'll leave you with Ryou for that time, and when I return I expect it to be exactly the way it was before you came. Goodbye Marik." He said. He paused as he threw his coat around his shoulders. "Also, put a shirt on. I don't want the neighbors creeping on us any more than they already do." He scooped up the backpack and slammed the door behind him. As his footsteps receded down the hall, Marik stood and grabbed the blanket off the floor. A look of determination came over his face as he returned to the spare room for one of his shirts. For in that moment of a staring contest, he had found something peculiar in his friend's expression, a sort of sadness that he felt had nothing to do with the shadow realm. There was definitely something strange going on with Bakura, and damned if he wasn't going to find out.<p> 


	3. Pretzels and Swingsets

"Marik?" There was a knock on the door before Ryou peeked inside the darkened spare room. "Bakura's gone again...you can come out, if you want." Marik broke off his staring contest with the ceiling and sat up, blinking sluggishly.

"Have you been sitting in that room since I left?" Ryou asked as they headed out to the living room. He hopped onto the couch, where his papers and textbooks were already spread out.

"Most of the time," Marik mumbled, sitting down on the floor in front of the blank TV. "I was just thinking, and I guess the day flew by me before I even knew it." He sighed, burying his head in his hands. "I just can't figure it out." Ryou gave him a quizzical glance. "Bakura," Marik added. "Something's different about him, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Ah," Ryou bit his lip, looking down at his paper. "_I_ don't even understand him most of the time. But he can be rather, you know, temperamental."

"He didn't hurt you, did he? I mean, for letting me in?" Marik asked apprehensively.

"No, and that's the weirdest part of it." Ryou said, figeting. "Unless there's something bothering him, I'm usually not able to hold him back. And then all through the day, he was really quiet...I mean, he didn't even make a snide comment on my history teacher's ignorance, and he never misses an opportunity to do that. Then once we got home, he told me that he was going away for a bit."

"I know," Marik said. Again a look of questioning, this time mixed with concern. "Do you remember anything about lunch?" He asked.

"I wasn't really paying attention, I usually stick to reading in my soul room when Bakura takes over. It's easier to deal with that way...Oh god, did he say something to you?"

"Yeah." Marik said with a humorless laugh. "He said some things alright. Apparently, he hates me now."

Ryou clapped his hands over his mouth. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what's gotten into him lately!"

"Don't be," Marik said. "Don't make excuses for him, Ryou. He's not you."

"I know..." Ryou said, looking downcast. "I just feel like I shouldn't let him treat people badly since it's, you know _...me_ he's speaking through."

"I know exactly what you mean." Marik said. "When my yami was in control it was terrible, watching him destroy people's lives. And there's me, not able to do a damned thing about it." He fiddled with the carpet, lightly tracing a pattern in the fibers. "The barriers around the shadow realm must be thin this time of year," he muttered darkly to himself.

"Beg pardon?"

Marik shrugged. "It's nothing, just...Your yami came back after being in the shadow realm...and so did mine."

Ryou balked. "Yours is back too?!"

"In a matter of speaking."

"But...how?"

"I don't know...probably the same way as yours. Does it matter?" Marik asked, his voice tense.

Ryou stared at him worriedly. Marik's hands had clenched into fists, shaking angrily against the grey carpet. "Marik?"

"It's fine," he snapped. "I have him under control. He's not going to take over again...I won't let that happen. But that doesn't erase him being there. It doesn't silence the things he says..."

"Can I do anything to help?" Ryou asked, kneeling down beside him.

Marik shrugged, sadness growing in his eyes. "I don't know. I mean, I try to tune him out, but...sometimes that's not possible. He's probably right, anyways. I mean, I did leave Bakura in the shadow realm, I should have tried harder to take him with me, and I do feel terrible about it. But I'm not sure if that's what's bugging Bakura, and I can't fix things between us if I don't know..."

Ryou held up a hand to stop him. "I know it's easy to fall into that kind of thinking," he said quietly. "Believe me, I know. But if you let that happen, you're letting him-your yami-win. See what I'm saying?"

Marik nodded. "I guess you're right."

Ryou studied his friend's face, which still looked close to tears. "I think I know what you need. Follow me." He helped Marik to his feet and reached for his coat. Marik pulled his own off the radiator, and followed Ryou out the door.

~~~

"Now, isn't this better?" Ryou asked as the two of them walked along, soft pretzels and coffee in their hands, keeping them warm.

"Mhm," Marik replied as the salty, buttery goodness hit his taste buds. "Damn, this is good!"

"You see? Whenever I get sad or start thinking it's hopeless, I go get a snack and head to this park. I don't know why it makes me feel better...but it works." They strolled into the tiny park, admiring the spare trees that were still holding onto their last few clumps of autumn leaves. Heading over to the swing set, they sat down, swaying gently as they munched on their pretzels. Between bites, Marik slowly began to relay his lunchtime encounter with Bakura. Ryou listened thoughtfully, pondering his yami's latest actions.

"I think you're right," He said finally, crumpling up his napkin. "The shadow realm thing might have been partially true, but admitting something that private doesn't sound like him at all. He doesn't like to admit that he actually feels human emotions, really. Other than rage, or being extremely smug."

"You think so?" Marik asked. He stared up at the sky pensively. "I suppose you'd know him best."

"Probably. But at least I can help you figure this out. Maybe that way, Bakura will let you stay!"

Marik smiled. "Yeah. We'll figure it out together."

A gust of wind made them both shiver, and a few shaky leaves fell off the tree next to the swing set. One drifted over and plastered itself to the back of Ryou's head, making him jump.

"Here," Marik said, laughing as Ryou tried to grab the rogue leaf and missed. He untangled it from Ryou's hair and held it out to him.

Ryou blushed, taking the leaf from Marik's hand. "Right...a leaf...I knew that." He chuckled sheepishly.

Marik stood and stretched, his smile growing wider. "I'm not sure if it's the coffee kicking in or what, but I feel like running. Race you to the slide?"

"You're on," Ryou replied. Marik took off towards the red and yellow slide, running and yelling as if he were five years old. Ryou  
>chuckled and chased after him, slipping the leaf into his pocket.<p> 


	4. Strange Dreams and Shattered Glass

Nighttime found Marik with a small smile on his face, as he and Ryou grabbed a pizza before trekking home. Both were tired, a side-effect of their running around in a childhood recollection. As they headed upstairs to Ryou's apartment, Marik finally broke the weary silence.  
>"Ryou?"<br>"Hm?"  
>"Thanks for cheering me up," Marik said with a smile."I needed it, badly. You're a good friend, you know that?"<br>Ryou beamed. "No problem," he said, turning the key and swinging the door open. "If you're still hungry I can make popcorn or something."  
>Marik shook his head. "Actually Ryou, I think I'm gonna go to sleep. If Bakura really meant what he said about two days, I should probably start the quest for my own apartment tomorrow. And a job for that matter. I wonder if anyone around here needs someone with tombkeeping skills..."<br>Ryou laughed, his face falling. "I forgot you have to leave," he said quietly. "I wish you didn't."  
>"Yeah," Marik said, a little sadly. "Me too. Well, 'night Ryou."<br>"G'night Marik," Ryou said, dejectedly turning back to his studies. Marik shut the door to his room and collapsed on the bed, trying to formulate a plan for the following day. But through the haze of exhaustion and caffeine crash that quickly enveloped his brain, he failed to find anything, and soon fell into an uneasy sleep.  
><em>"You're only fooling yourself," A familiar voice taunted from the shadowy corners of Marik's dream. He looked around, seeing only one thing besides a landscape of absolute darkness. His yami stood before him, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his face.<br>"What do you want?" Marik demanded, drifting towards him. "Two appearances in one day, you've got to be after something."  
>"You're so hell-bent on trying to be difficult," Yami Marik said, laughing patronizingly. "I'm sure you already know what I want."<br>"Of course," Marik said, reaching into his back pocket to reveal the Millennium Rod. "You want me to give you this."  
>"If it were the real one, yes," Yami Marik said, snatching the rod from his hikari and snapping it effortlessly in half. "You'll have to entertain me some other way, until you get the real rod back-"<br>"-It's where it belongs," interrupted Marik. "Its true owner has it you'll need to find some other way to occupy your time."  
>Yami Marik gawked at him, shocked. "We're the true owners of the rod...how else do you expect us to become pharaoh?"<br>Irked, Marik turned. "I don't. I don't want to be pharaoh...that's what you wanted all along-"  
>"The taller man grabbed Marik by the chin, staring deep into his eyes. "You have no idea what I really want!"<br>Marik threw his arms out, "Then what the hell were you trying to do during Battle City?!" He jerked out of his yami's grasp. "Besides. It's not about what you want anymore. It's what I want."  
>"And what do you want?" Marik froze, a note in his yami's voice making his heart begin to palpitate. He turned, but his counterpart had disappeared.<br>"Shit," Marik muttered, taking a few steps backwards. "Where did he-" But his question was easily answered, as he felt a strong pair of arms wrap around his shoulders.  
>"I asked you a question," the low, dangerous voice hissed, tongue tickling his ear. "What do you want?"<br>"I..." Marik's mind went terrifyingly blank as that same tongue pressed against the smooth skin behind his ear.  
>"You want this?" The whisper sent chills running rampant through his body, every muscle tensing as a single tan hand slipped under his shirt, rubbing teasingly against his abdomen. "Come on, Marik, I know you...I know every thought in your head...Every sick little fantasy..."<br>Marik gasped,the urge to fall into his yami's arms growing as that hand wandered up and down his torso, pinching and massaging as it went. "You can't...you can't know everything..." He couldn't let this continue, he couldn't give in to his yami's touch."Let me go-"  
>Yami Marik only tightened his grip. "But I'm a part of you...Who better than I..." He trailed his tongue along the side of Marik's face, winding around his jugular. He grinned toothily up at Marik, who seemed to be frozen, the fear mixing with a glazed look of almost-pleasure. "It looks to me," he hissed lewdly, sliding his hand and pressing against the bulge in Marik's pants, reveling in the sharp intake of breath from his hikari. "Like you want it...badly."<br>"I-I don't!" Marik said, pulling away, trying to escape his yami's vise-like grip. "Yami, let me go!" He slipped under his counterparts muscled arms, tripping over himself as he pivoted, glaring at his yami. "I don't want...I don't want that."  
>His yami scoffed, his arm swinging in a stinging slap. "Think carefully about the way you want to deal with this...It's not the last time we'll be seeing each other..."<em>  
>And with that Marik's eyes snapped open, vaulting him into upright wakefulness. <em>Why...why am I having dreams like this?!<em> he thought, his hand went to cheek, the ghost of a slap still resonating through his skin._ It felt so real...Just like the others had before it._ He brushed his hair back from his sweat-dampened forehead, staring out into space. His yami had visited before, yes, but never like this. _Why would he touch me like that?!_ Marik wondered, his head whirling. _He can't know everything...He can't know that..._He took a quick peek under the covers and blushed, before trying to clear his head.  
>The seconds ticked on, slowly taking the edge off of the panic with which he had awoken. <em>I can't let him manipulate me anymore,<em> Marik thought firmly, settling back on the pillow and curling up in the covers. _I"ll just have to try and go back to sleep, maybe I can get a little more before I have to wake up..._  
>The sound of breaking glass and a quickly stifled scream from the other bedroom sent him scrambling out of the twisted sheets and hurtling down the hall. The door was ajar, the framed mirror next to it shattered.<br>Ryou was still in his bed, meeting Marik's eyes in heart-wrenching terror. A figure dressed in black stood next to him, one hand clamped over Ryou's mouth. The other held a knife to his throat.  
>"Get away from the door," the intruder barked. "Or I'll slit his throat."<br>Marik moved slowly into the room, his hands in the air. His mind was whizzing, the adrenaline already pumping through his veins. Aside from the knife, the man didn't seem to be heavily armed, and the half-full sack beside him gave away his purpose. "Listen, just take whatever you want," he said cautiously, staring at the burglar. "Just put the knife down, and we'll all be fine."  
>The burglar's arm relaxed slightly, the knife blade drifting away from Ryou's neck. The boy breathed a tiny sigh of relief, which came out sounding like a sob. "Don't think you're out of the woods yet," the man in the ski mask said, holding a finger to his lips. "Make a sound and I won't be so nice." He turned to Marik. "Do you have anything to say about it?"<br>"Of course not," Marik replied calmly. "Just take what you're looking for and go."  
>The burglar hesitated, slowly picking up the bag and moving towards the hallway. "Get over there," he grunted, pointing Marik over to the other side of the room. He walked over and stood obediently over by the bed, watching carefully as the man started for the door. "Anyone else in this apartment?"<br>"Not a soul," Marik said, his voice hitching, suddenly sounding unconvincing. Ryou watched him, bewildered. After a moment of joining the pale young man in his staring, trying to discern whether or not Marik was lying, the burglar turned back to the hallway and began to cautiously creep out of the room. Marik met Ryou's eyes, and gave him a look that read _'Stay put, I know what I'm doing.'_  
>Silently, he picked up a side of the broken mirror frame, brandishing it like a staff. He tread carefully after the intruder, his shoulders tensing in readiness.<br>_Come on Marik,_ he thought to himself encouragingly. He reached over, about an arms length away from the intruder, and tapped him on the back.  
>"What-the hell?!" As the burglar turned, Marik swung the piece of frame like a bat. The burglar crumpled to the floor, his knife flying out of his hand and clattering against the wall. "You son of a bitch!" he cried, clutching at his bloodied nose. "What the fuck?!<br>"Do you want more of this?" Marik yelled, hitting him in the side with his makeshift weapon. The burglar's hand jutted out to grab a piece of mirror, a determined smirk on his face.  
>"Marik, watch out!" Ryou yelled. Marik looked down just as the shard flashed in the glow of the shutter-filtered streetlight, connecting with his leg and slicing through both sleep pants and skin. He cried out, bringing the frame down on the man's shoulder. The burglar screamed as he toppled off balance, ramming his back into the mirror-shard littered floor.<br>"Ryou, call the police!" Marik called over the man's yowls of pain, pinning him to the ground with the frame-staff. "Had enough yet?!" he asked the man, who nodded his head wordlessly, his face scrunched up under his mask . Marik picked him up by the front of his shirt and dragged him over to a clear patch of ground. Ryou, who had started dialing for emergency services, suddenly stopped and set the phone back on the hook.  
>"Ryou, what's wro-?" Marik asked. His lavender eyes widened as the British boy swooped over the end of his bed and landed beside him, his brown eyes transformed and ablaze with fury. "Ba-Bakura," Marik stammered, in shock.<br>Bakura ignored him, roughly grabbing the man lying on the ground before him, dangling him off the floor. He dragged him over to where his knife had fallen, picking it up and holding the blade to his throat. "Do you know what you have done?!" he hissed, breaking the skin with the tip of the knife.  
>"I-I-m sor-rry," the burglar choked, shaking as a trickle of blood ran down his neck.<br>"Sorry does not excuse you." the white-haired man said, pulling off the ski mask to reveal a sunken, terrified face. "For one thing, you've managed to commit the sloppiest heist I've ever seen. You made several mistakes, which is why you got your ass handed to you by someone half your size." The man let out a whimper as the blade flicked under his left eye, dragging downwards in a slow, shallow slice.  
>"Please, don't kill me-"<br>"-But more importantly, you tried to steal from me," Bakura interrupted, ignoring his pleas as he dragged the knife over towards the man's ear. "**Me.** And for that your punishment will be slow and painful." He smirked, watching the knife slice into the thin flesh of the burglar's ear as the man cried out against the hand clamped over his mouth.  
>"Bakura?!" Marik asked quietly, stumbling stiffly to his feet. "He's got glass embedded in his back, he's bleeding pretty much everywhere. Do you really think he needs any more pain?"<br>Bakura made no sound, but the knife paused, blood trickling down the blade. "Please," the burglar blubbered, gazing pleadingly at his victim-turned-aggressor. "He's right, I won't hurt anyone again just-"  
>"Shut up!" Bakura barked, the knife pulling away from the bleeding ear. "Marik, go open the window."<br>Marik glanced from the man to the window. "But-"  
>"We're only on the third floor, it's not that far down," Bakura said flatly. "It won't kill him."<br>He turned his head and met Marik's eyes with a piercing look. After a few moments, Marik sighed and limped over to the window. Bakura joined him, dragging the protesting thief behind him and hoisting him halfway over the ledge.  
>"I don't know why you picked this place as your target, but it was a mistake," Bakura said in a dangerously low voice, his hands tight on the man's throat as he dangled him over the edge. "Possibly one of the biggest of your life. I'm letting you off with the warning that if I ever see you again, the consequences will be every punishment the devil would think of as 'too harsh,' and you will beg for me to kill you before it's over. Now get the fuck out of my sight." He gave the hapless burglar a push, sending him tumbling with a gurgling cry into the bushes below. He then stomped angrily out of the room, leaving Marik staring in horror out the window. He watched the bushes as the burglar crawled out of them, somehow managing to stagger painfully into the alleyway. Marik was stunned, speechless.<br>_I've seen him angry before, but never like this,_ Marik thought with a shudder, closing the window and leaning against it, wincing as the pain started to pierce through the adrenaline rush of the fight. He glanced down and gave a soft cry at the sight of his sleep pants, which were torn and dyed scarlet up to his calf.  
>Bakura returned, a first aid kit in his hands. "Where the hell did you learn all of that?" he asked, motioning to the frame on the floor by the bed.<br>Marik shrugged, attempting to limp over to him. "I was a tombkeeper. When you're guarding an ancient tomb in Egypt, you have to get used to the fact that people are going to try and break in. Most of them were just Indiana Jones wannabes, but a few of them were seriously after whatever artifacts they could get their hands on. Either way, you have to be ready to 'hand someone's ass to them,' as you so eloquently put it." Marik tried to put weight on his injured foot but stumbled, his leg buckling and pitching him towards the floor. Bakura swiftly caught him, helping him over to the bed.  
>"Let me look at it," he ordered. Marik pulled his leg gingerly onto the bed, cringing as Bakura rolled up the ruined fabric. "It's not that deep." he said finally, sitting back and meeting Marik's eyes."You're lucky not to have sustained more injuries."<br>"That's what you think," Marik hissed in pain, bringing his second foot up to the bed and inspecting the various tiny cuts from the mirror shards on the ground.  
>"At the very least, you'll live," Bakura said, pulling out bandages. As he began to wrap up Marik's leg, he noticed the tan youth staring at him oddly. "What?"<br>"I just can't figure you out," Marik said peeling a Band-Aid from its wrapper and sticking it to one of the larger cuts. "I mean, this afternoon you were telling me that you hated me and that you never want to see me again, and now you're bandaging up my leg."  
>Bakura remained silent for a moment. "I never said that I hated you," he said quietly.<br>"You came pretty damn close." Marik retorted.  
>Bakura gave him a sideways glare, but then returned to the bandages. "I may have been a little...harsh this afternoon. But what do you expect, finding you here, it's not like I was expecting to see you ever again."<br>"You mean to say, that you were surprised to see me?"  
>"Of course I was surprised, what the hell were you expecting?"<br>Marik studied his face in the orange light spilling in from the street, a sly smile spreading across his face. "You missed me."  
>"What?!" Bakura barked, tying the knot in the bandages a little too tightly, his face flustered. "I did no such thing."<br>"And I'm Cleopatra." Marik replied, snorting. "You missed me, admit it."  
>"I missed you as much as I miss waking up with locusts crawling all over me," Bakura muttered, scowling. "I merely wasn't expecting your reappearance, therefore did not prepare for it. I wouldn't be prepared to keep you any longer than necessary..."<br>Marik's smile fell away. Of course it would come back to this, he thought with a sigh. Bakura wouldn't-  
>"But then you went and saved Ryou, and therefore me. Without the ring, he's the key to my survival. You defended him without hesitating, and if you hadn't, and he had-" He stopped himself, shaking his head."Besides, I need someone to clean up around this dump while Ryou's at school. Think you can handle that?"<br>As his words sank in, Marik's face split into a delighted smile. "You mean it?"  
>Bakura nodded bitterly. "As long as you don't play catch with any more of our bowls, I think it'd be o-"<br>Unthinkingly, Marik flung his arms around the man's neck. "Thank you so much Bakura!"  
>Bakura tensed, his eyes wide. He coughed and Marik recoiled, looking down sheepishly. "Sorry," he said awkwardly. "Got a little...carried away..."<br>"Mhm," Bakura said, staring down at the sheets. "Do you'll need help getting back to your room or-"  
>Marik shook his head. "I should be good...thanks though." He limped to the door, avoiding the mirror shards as best he could. He paused in the doorway, smiling back. "Thanks again Bakura."<br>Bakura shrugged as if to say 'No problem,' listening as Marik's footsteps retreated back towards the spare room. "Dammit," he muttered to himself as he heard the door slam shut. Grumbling, he rolled over and closed his eyes, knowing that sleep was unlikely to return to him very soon.


	5. Breakfast and Books

The next morning, Marik stirred and grimaced at the throbbing pain in his leg, lingering evidence of the previous night's events. He groaned and pulled it up for inspection, dismayed to see that the blood was starting to soak through the bandages. _I should probably change them,_ he thought with a sigh, carefully stumbling to his feet and trying not to aggravate the cuts any farther. But as he opened the door, the smell of something cooking hit his nose, compelling him to shuffle out to the kitchen.  
>The white-haired occupant of the apartment stood in front of the stove, flipping both pancakes and eggs with dexterous skill.<br>"Bakura?" he asked, not sure whether he was addressing the spirit or his host. The figure turned, sharp mahogany eyes meeting Marik's for a moment, so similar and yet different, colder than Ryou's.  
>"Morning," Bakura said, turning back to breakfast. "You want any of this?"<br>Marik sank down into a chair. "If there's any left over." He watched the pancakes slide onto the plate. "I didn't know you cooked."  
>Bakura shrugged, sliding the pancakes onto the dish next to him. "Only when I can find the time," he said, scooping up a bit of egg on a fork. "Usually Ryou has school which, as long as I want my host to have a home to live in, I honor. But as I have things to do after last's night's incident-" He brought both dishes over and sat them down, slightly harder than necessary, "-I figured that one day off wouldn't end the world." He picked up his teacup and sipped it, eying Marik watchfully. "Well, help yourself. Your arms weren't injured along with your legs, were they?"<br>Marik shook his head, blushing slightly and grabbing a plate. He took a tentative bite of pancake, his face spreading in a wide smile. "This-this is really good, Bakura! Where'd you learn to cook such tasty food?!"  
>Bakura shrugged. "Here and there," he replied vaguely, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of egg. Silence descended upon the table as the food slowly doled itself out between the two plates.<br>As he ate, he could feel Bakura's eyes on him; studying and analyzing his every movement. He finally looked up, meeting Bakura's gaze and returning it just as steadily. "Something wrong?" he asked. "Syrup on my face?"  
>Bakura shook his head. "Just...curious, I suppose," he said, stirring the scrambled eggs on his plate. "You see, I heard from various sources about what happened at the end of Battle City. I know that in the last moments of your duel against the pharaoh, you defeated your yami, an impressive feat alone." He nodded graciously to Marik who smiled weakly.<br>_Where is he going with this?_ he wondered to himself, chewing cautiously.  
>Bakura's expression darkened as he picked up his tea cup and stared into it. "But I also heard that you gave up your chance to even <em>attempt <em>to defeat the pharaoh in the process. That you surrendered to him."  
>Marik cringed. "I can explain-"<br>"I don't really care for your explanations," Bakura cut him off, holding up a hand. "How you deal with the pharaoh is your own business, as long as I get my vengeance in the end." He stood and took his tea cup over to the sink and rinsed it out. "No, my question is why, if you're so buddy-buddy with the pharaoh now, then why are you sitting at my kitchen table this morning, instead of his?"  
>Marik paused, mind whizzing. Why had he come to Ryou's apartment, out of all of the people he had met in Battle City? "Well," he said slowly, trying to dig up a careful answer. "I don't think we're as 'buddy-buddy' as you think." He bit his lip, taking a sip of his orange juice. "I did what I had to as a tombkeeper...If I hadn't, I'd probably have been sent to the shadow realm, or worse. I-" He paused, mulling over his words. <em>I did what I felt was right, at the time,<em> rang through his head, an answer that he knew to be the truth. But it wasn't an answer Bakura was likely to take well. _I don't want a repeat of my first night here,_ he thought, cringing internally.  
>"If I hadn't surrendered, I wouldn't have been able to defeat my dark side in the first place." It wasn't a lie, nor was it the complete truth. "If I had won, he would have taken over again. At the time, the only way to make sure he went to the shadow realm was to let the pharaoh win, and then give into his demands." He looked up at Bakura, who was scrubbing the dishes thoughtfully. "I had very little choice in the matter."<br>"I see," Bakura said dully, throwing his dishes into the dishwasher. "So the pharaoh's demands included showing him the tattoo on your back, giving up the last of the Egyptian god cards, and giving him the millennium items in your possession?" he sneered. "He always did demand too much."  
>Marik gulped. "I gave him the rod, yes," he said quietly. "I don't know what my yami did with the ring..."<br>"Right," Bakura said, slamming the dishwasher shut. "Of course you don't."  
>"I don't," Marik insisted. "And to answer your earlier question, I came back because, well, you're my friend, Bakura. I wanted things to be like they were before...and I think, somehow, I knew that you'd find a way out of the shadow realm."<br>Bakura spun around, eyes on Marik's face once more. It was if he was trying to discern whether Marik was joking or completely serious. As he opened his mouth to speak, the phone rang behind him. After a second's consideration as to letting it ring, he answered it in a perfect imitation of his host.  
>"Hello? Yes, this is he...oh, wonderful, I'll pick it up as soon as I can. Thank you very much...Goodbye." He dropped the phone back on the hook and turned to Marik. "Don't think this conversation is over," he said, striding out of the kitchen. "Go get dressed and change your bandages."<br>"Why?" Marik asked, standing and hobbling after him.  
>Bakura grabbed a shirt from a pile of clean laundry in the corner. "That was the Domino Bookstore, just around the corner. I assumed you'd want to come along."<br>"And if I don't?"  
>Bakura gave him a look. "It's not that far," he said. "Giving that leg some exercise will do it good." He shut the bedroom door, leaving Marik staring in the hallway.<br>"Alright then," he said slowly, heading back for the spare room. "Bookstore here I come."

Marik was panting by the time they reached the store, leaning heavily on Bakura's shoulder as his leg throbbed. "Dammit," he hissed, sinking onto the sidewalk. "This was a bad idea...Why was it so important for me to come with you?"  
>"Because," Bakura said, hoisting him to his feet and pulling him inside. "I figured you'd want to." He opened the door and watched carefully as Marik's jaw dropped.<br>"Wow..." Marik breathed in awe. "This many books exist?"  
>Bakura nodded, smirking. "Easily impressed, are we?"<br>Marik ignored him, drifting over to the first row of shelves, trailing a finger down the spines as he went along.  
>Bakura's eyes followed him as he started around the corner. <em>How simple,<em> Bakura thought, shaking his head and approaching the counter. _Gods, that boy is sheltered..._  
>As he picked up the book with a nod of thanks from the woman behind the counter, Ryou appeared beside his yami, gazing happily at the book. "Awesome!" he said, beaming. "Will I get to read it soon?"<br>"Not right now," Bakura said, waving him away. He tucked the book under his arm and set off to find his own, from a series of mysteries set in ancient Egypt. He had first picked it up in Ryou's apartment on a whim, expecting the most deplorable inaccuracies, as usual. He was pleasantly surprised, however, that the author had done their research and gotten things, at least those he could remember, relatively correct.  
>Ryou followed him in spirit form, frowning. "But-"<br>Bakura glared at him. "I said later," he snapped. "Now leave."  
>Ryou sighed, reluctantly disappearing back into his soul room. Bakura shook his head, reaching for a book on the shelf. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Marik, browsing two shelves over. He kept an eye on him as he pretended to look through the novel, watching as the oblivious boy flipped casually though a book before adding it to the growing pile in his arms. He reached up to the top shelf, his shirt riding up to reveal his firmly toned abs. Bakura stared, his eyes drawn to the tanned skin of the boy's midriff.<br>_Get a hold of yourself,_ he thought, forcing himself to turn back to the shelf. _His abs are not an eye magnet._ He drifted away, vaguely looking at the books as he passed by, deep in thought. _This isn't Battle City anymore._ He grimaced, thinking back to his last interaction with Marik, back in the Shadow Realm.

_"You..."Bakura whipped around at the voice, disturbing the wafting shadows as he turned. Marik's face was a welcome sight, especially compared to the horrors lurking in their place of exile. Even when the eyes of that face held a glint of weary anger to them. Bakura stepped forward and immediately Marik swung, catching his partner-in-crime on the jaw.  
>"You lost us the duel," he said accusingly, panting slightly. "You got us stuck here!"<br>"**I** got us stuck here?" Bakura retorted, rubbing his face angrily. "You're the one whose plan to summon Ra didn't work!"  
>"If you hadn't been so reckless..." Marik replied. "I'd have my body back right now!" He swayed where he stood, his eyes glaring blearily at Bakura. "You made me lose every hope I had of getting out of here alive. I've been searching this cursed place just to find you." His voice grew sad and hollow as he looked away, staring off into the shadows. "I didn't want to go without giving you a piece of my mind."<br>"Stop your whimpering," Bakura snarled. "You're not dying, Marik."  
>Marik scoffed. "To think," he said quietly, his hands shaking. "To think that I ever cared about someone as heartless as you."<br>Bakura's eyes went wide and, almost involuntarily, he lurched forward and caught Marik as he crumpled to the ground. He cradled the unconscious boy in his arms, grabbing his wrist and searching for a pulse.  
>"You're not going to die," he said quietly, "Understand? You can't die here, Marik...I won't let you..." He reached up, resting a hand on Marik's cheek. As he did so, the shadows began to swirl around Marik's body, dissolving it under his hand.<br>"No..." He murmured to the surrounding darkness, clutching Marik tightly to his chest. "You can't take him!" But Marik's form was already fading from sight, a cruel, familiar chuckle ringing throughout the gloom, leaving Bakura alone once more._  
>Bakura shook his head, wandering over to the lounge area and plopping down in an arm chair. It appeared that Marik couldn't remember this incident, as ingrained as it was in his own memory. Perhaps for the better, considering. <em>But what did he mean?<em> The constant question that had returned to his mind since that moment. _He cared about me?_ It was a question that needed answered and soon.  
>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a walking pile of books approaching.<br>_Speaking of..._  
>Marik sat down next to him, setting the books down on a table and propping his leg up on the footstool with a groan. "Find anything interesting?" he asked, a contented smile on his face.<br>Bakura shrugged, burying his nose deeper into his book. "You?"  
>"Yeah. I'll have to go through them though," he said, picking up the first one. "No way I can afford all of these."<br>"Can you even afford one of them?"  
>Marik gave him a vaguely affronted look. "I do have <em>some<em> money, you know." He looked down at the book, slightly saddened. "I had to sell my motorcycle," he murmured, leafing through it and setting it aside. "If I hadn't, I probably would have starved before I even made it to the apartment."  
>Bakura nodded slowly, not quite sure what to say. "At least you had it for awhile," he muttered.<br>"Yeah," Marik said wistfully, picking up the next book. "This just sounds like a girl who's going to whine the whole time," he said after a pause, putting it down in what appeared to be the no pile.  
>"Just pick one, will you?"<br>Marik stuck his tongue out. "You can't rush these things," he replied, reaching over once again. "Ooh, this one sounds interesting. Will the vampire and the zombie ever find their undead soul mates?"  
>Bakura gritted his teeth. "You don't need to announce the plot to eveRyoune, now hurry up. We're not staying here all day."<br>Marik sighed. "Fine, fine. just give me a minute."  
>Bakura gritted his teeth, setting down his book. <em>That boy...<em> he growled, resting his chin in his hand. His mind wandered back to the Shadow Realm once more, to the words that would be forever etched in his mind. _How do I ask him about what he meant,_ he wondered, staring off into space.  
><em>I need some sort of plan-<em>  
>"AHH! That's...not what I thought that was!"<br>Marik's shout of surprise wrenched him from his ponderings. He turned to see Marik gazing in mingled horror and curiosity at a highly decorated book, the title The Kama Sutra, Advanced Edition emblazoned prominently on the title.  
>"Idiot," Bakura said disgustedly. "How could you not know what that is?"<br>Marik shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away. "How...how does that even work?" he asked in wonder, tilting the book so that Bakura could see.  
>He glanced over. "I'm sure I don't know," he said quickly, standing. "I do know that I'm going home. I expect you to be back in the apartment in forty-five minutes, ready to work."<br>"Wha-?" Marik asked, dropping the _Kama Sutra_ and gazing up at Bakura. "What work?"  
>Bakura paused. "You didn't think I was going to let you stay there for free, did you?" he asked. "I may not be charging you rent, but I do have a long list of things that need done around the apartment. And if you want to continue to have a roof over your head-" He paused, smirking to himself. "Then you're going to help me finish them." He started towards the checkout, leaving a slightly stunned Marik behind. <em>There, that should bide me a bit of time,<em>he thought with a smile. _I'll have my answers soon enough._


	6. An Evening Out

Marik slumped down on the couch, wiping his forehead with a hand. He could feel Bakura glaring up from his book but settled in anyway, closing his eyes. "If you say anything about doing dishes," he said quietly. "I will slap you."

"I'm not going to say you're done, if that's what you want."

Lavender eyes snapped back open. "I'm not your gods-damned maid, Bakura," he said, glaring. "I've been doing your chores for nearly two weeks! I've barely left the house since the bookstore and I'm sick of it!"

"No one's making you stay," Bakura replied, returning to his book. "You can leave at any time. Just don't expect to be welcomed back with open arms."

"You know what I meant," Marik said exasperatedly. "I want to get out and do _something_, not just sit here and clean." He fiddled with the string on his sweatshirt. "We should go out tonight. You know, explore Domino City, that sort of thing."

"And by 'we' you mean..."

Marik looked perplexed. "Us," he said slowly. "The only two people in this apartment?"

"And what makes you think I would want to spend my evening with you?" Bakura asked. "I'm busy, find someone else."

Marik opened his mouth, then shut it again as a spark of inspiration hit. "If you're sure, then," he said carefully, wandering over to the bookshelf. "You know, for all your talk, you're actually quite boring when there isn't a shadow game in store." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the spirit stiffen, glaring up at him.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" he growled.

Marik shrugged, trailing his finger across the spines. "I've been here for two, almost three weeks? Outside of Ryou going to school, I've seen you leave the house a grand total of twice. You just sit there reading, and sometimes you get up and cook...otherwise you're in Ryou's head, pining for the ring when you could be out there, looking for it. But instead you're in here...some would say it looks like you're hiding..."

The book hit the opposite wall, and Marik turned to see Bakura fast approaching. He grunted as the spirit shoved him roughly against the shelf, his nose inches from Marik's. "If you've got something to say then spit it out," he hissed. "Call me a coward, see how long your life lasts after that."

Marik smirked, peeling Bakura's hand off his shoulder. "I am saying nothing of the sort," he said. "All I'm saying that it doesn't seem like you, all this waiting. Your big shadow game will happen when everything aligns just so, isn't that right? You might as well spend the time doing something instead of just idling it away like this."

Bakura studied his face carefully, scowling. "Five minutes," he snapped, striding away. "Be ready."

~~~  
>The air was frigid when they stepped out onto the sidewalk, swiftly heading down the street. Marik shivered, pulling the thin jacket closer around him. "When the f-fuck did it get this cold?" he asked, glaring.<p>

"They have winter here," Bakura replied. "Though people have been saying that this is unusual for so early in the season." They reached an intersection and stopped, Bakura glancing over at his roommate. "Which way?"

The boy paused, glancing both ways down the street. "Straight," he said finally, setting off again for the bustling city center. A smile spread over his face as more and more lights lit their way across town, people swirling around them like fish in a pool. Domino was so bright and alive, so different from his old home. He had dreamed about visiting places like this for so long when he was younger and now, facing the prospect of living in one filled him with a jolt of excitement. It took all of his self control to stay by Bakura, and not to stop at every interesting storefront.

"Wow," he murmured, his eyes drawn to a colorful window full of baubles and trinkets. "People really buy these things?"

"Some," Bakura said, not really looking. "And I'm sure they're priced for only those people to enjoy." Marik pulled himself away and continued on, though it wasn't very long until they had stopped again.

"We should get something to eat," Marik said, staring hungrily at the shady looking food cart up ahead.

Bakura sniffed disgustedly. "Come on then," he said, grabbing him by the arm. "You don't want that shit." They ignored the glares of the cart owner as they darted across the street, dodging traffic and ducking down a side street.

To Marik's delight, they found a Mediterranean food place, squished into cramped little shop down by the river. They got their food and stood on the nearby bridge, looking out at the sluggishly moving water.

"'S not bad," Marik said, munching ravenously on his falafel. "Not as good as Ishizu makes, but still..." He smiled up at the sky. "I never expected to find shops here that sold food from back home...this city's amazing!"

"It's okay as they go," Bakura mused. "There's an anonymity to it, which is helpful." He looked out over the river, ignoring the cars rushing behind them. "It has nothing on Alexandria, or Thebes back in the day...the cities of old..."

"What were they like?"

The spirit shrugged, tearing a strip of meat off of his kebab. "They weren't so flashy as this place. They were just...a different time. The basic workings were similar, but things like that-they don't really exist anymore."

"You're here, aren't you?" Marik asked. "And I'm here...the pharaoh-Egypt as you knew it isn't completely gone..."

"We're the exceptions," Bakura grunted. "People don't live like the old days anymore. They're too busy with their distractions and their idols and their work to do much of anything besides buzz like bees in a hive." He threw his skewer in the river, turning his back to it and staring up at the sky. Marik looked at him and was surprised to find the same far-away look as the morning after his arrival, a sort of sadness that made a strange lump jump to his throat.

"Let's go," he said after a moment, grabbing Bakura by the arm and pulling him away. "See what else we can find."

They walked along in silence, their hands jammed in their pockets for warmth. Their pace was slow in comparison to the hurried shuffle of the people around them, two figures taking their time to gaze at their surroundings and take them in.

As they rounded a corner, a building reared into view that caught Marik's eye. It was a short stone building, the word 'MYTHOS' emblazoned in glowing blue letters on its front. Even from far away they could hear music stemming from the open doors, could see just how many people dressed in glitzy outfits were milling around its steps.

"Want to check it out?" The blond asked.

"Not particularly." They inched closer anyways, heading up the stairs. Even before they reached the line, they could see two large men turning people away.

"Even more interesting," Marik drew back, a mischievous grin on his face. They wandered around to the alley beside it, looking for a way in.

"You have got to be joking," Bakura drawled, leaning against the wall next to him as the boy tested a basement window with his foot.

"No joke," Marik said as he pulled a pocket knife from his belt and slipped the thin blade through a gap. "If it's being guarded, it's gotta be worth something. As a thief, you should know that." With a click he had it open. It was a tight squeeze, but it was only a few seconds before Marik landed gracefully on the basement floor. He held up a hand, beckoning Bakura inside. "Coast is clear," he whispered. "Come on!"

Bakura shook his head. "This has to be one of the most stupid, most idiotic plans you've ever-," he muttered, slipping inside nevertheless. He shut the window hastily, dusting himself off. "So what now, genius?!"

He looked up to see Marik taking off his coat. He had changed clothes before they left, donning a black leather jacket that stopped directly at his midriff. It clung to him tightly, squeaking slightly as he turned.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just-" Bakura slung his own coat over his arm, scowling. "We're _just_ having a look around. Ten minutes, fifteen tops."

"Fine by me." Marik slipped past him, leaving Bakura cursing both himself, Marik, and eveRyoune he could think of before following him.

The hallway and stairwell were empty as the two figures hurried upstairs, the music growing louder with each passing step. Marik stopped and held up a hand, peering around the corner. Down the hall sat a bartender on break, though his back was to the door...it would almost be too easy.  
>"Wait a few seconds, then follow me in," Marik whispered, miming towards the door.<p>

Bakura nodded gruffly. "Just go."

And so he did, swiftly stealing across the hall and out the door. The volume soared for a moment before the door shut with a click, and from around the corner, Bakura saw the bartender look up, confused. He slunk back into the shadows, heart pounding as he waited for the man to turn back to his computer.

_I must be out of my mind,_ he thought for fifth time in the last few minutes, darting to the door and slipping into the pulsating darkness. He was immediately swallowed up by the ear-piercing music, the bass vibrating around in his chest. Marik stood waiting for him, his eyes wide.

"HOLY FUCK," he yelled, pulling Bakura off to the side. "WHAT IS THIS PLACE?"

"IT'S A CLUB!" Bakura retorted. "AND A PISS POOR ONE AT THAT." He pointed to a coat rack, taking Marik's coat and throwing it on a hook with his own.

"STILL WORTH A LOOK AROUND!" Marik said with a winning smile. Together they tried to push through the crowd, all milling around the booths, idling with their drinks before heading onto the dance floor.

They flowed along with the crowd, Marik sticking close to Bakura's side as the crowd buffered them along. His smile began to fade as nausea from the flashing lights washed over him, the strobe making him feel as the whole room was spinning. He clung tighter to Bakura's wrist, his fingers digging into the skin with a force to make the spirit look up, eyebrows raised.

"DO YOU WANT TO LEAVE?" Bakura asked, prying the boy's nails out of his arm.

Marik shook his head, though his eyes told a different story. This place was too dark, there were too many people, the music was painful and loud and it all was quickly threatening to overwhelm him.

A group of girls brushed past them and Marik flinched, instinctively backing away. A few of them turned to glare at him, close enough to hear mutters of "What a freak," as they stalked away. A bead of sweat ran down Marik's neck, a swoop of rage crashing through him and mixing with the unsettled tightness in his chest. He didn't want to stay...but he didn't want to admit that to Bakura, either...

He edged his way over to the edge of the dance floor, trying to watch the flickering figures grinding to the beat. He swayed awkwardly, Bakura shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. It only strengthened his resolve a little, he'd show the spirit how it was done-

A piercing pain spiked through his head, bringing a cry to his lips. He stumbled back against the wall, his eyes watering as his head throbbed to the rhythm of the music. The club was swimming in front of him, the music sounding distorted and wrong. Pride be damned, he needed to get out of here. The sensations assaulting his head had the same feeling as before his father's death, and on Kaiba's blimp...He could even hear his yami's voice in his ear, whispering in a cajoling tone of voice that made him shudder.

"Let me out, Marik," his doppelganger murmured urgently. We could make this place so much more fun..."

_Absolutely not!_ Marik snapped, mentally pushing him back. _I won't let you hurt anyone else!_ He turned to tell Bakura that it was time to leave, but the white haired figure was no longer beside him. His heart flew to his throat as he looked around, seeing nothing but unfamiliar faces. He started to call out for him-

-And then the name died on his lips. He had caught sight of one person he knew, someone who most certainly wasn't Bakura. Now he was waving and heading towards him, and there was no way Marik could run.


	7. Dancing on Thin Ice

"MARIK?!" Yugi exclaimed, wading through the sea of people over to where the youth stood. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Marik gaped, his head still spinning. "I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME QUESTION!" he yelled back.

Yugi opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, motioning for the Egyptian to follow him up a flight of stairs. Marik paused, a hand to his forehead. He should be finding Bakura and getting out of there as quickly as possible...but after Battle City and everything he had done to Yugi and his friends, he wasn't hasty to get on the Pharaoh's bad side again. He trailed after him, trying to calm the tremors running through his body.

_"Oh this **is **rich," _his yami crowed. _"Now it really is a party."_

_Go away, _Marik ordered, his headache spiking again. _Nothing is going to happen. _

_ "Kehehe, so you think..." _He backed away slightly as Yugi opened a door and ushered Marik inside. As he shut them in, everything from outside disappeared. They were standing in silence and darkness so abrupt that Marik turned back to the door in alarm, fearing they had the wrong room.

"It's okay," Yugi said from somewhere near his elbow. "The gang must be out on the dance floor, that's all." He groped along the wall for a light switch. "There we are."

It didn't seem to do much good. Bars of purple light appeared overhead, but the walls and floor remained as black as before. The only objects illuminated were a few brightly-colored pieces of furniture, making them seem to glow in the darkness.

_"Is that fear I'm feeling in your heart?"_ Yami Marik's voice was positively gleeful as he felt Marik's pulse quicken, his eyes darting wildly around. _"After living in the dark for so long, are you now scared of it?"_

_Shut up, _Marik thought harshly, sinking down onto glowing white chair. _Leave me alone._

A dark chuckle echoed in his ears._"Or is it that this place reminds you too much of the shadow realm...if we only had a millennium item, we could go for a little trip into your memories..."_ The boy could feel him grinning toothily, leering at the puzzle around Yugi's neck.

_You can't touch him, _Marik insisted, his nails digging into the arms of the chair. _I won't let you. _

_ "You want to test that theory?"_

"Shut _up_," Marik murmured forcefully, his teeth clenched.

"Hm?" Yugi looked up, puzzled.

Marik shook his head, trying his best to ignore his yami. "How-so how have you been, Yugi?" he said, straining to keep his voice level.

"Not too bad," The spiky-haired boy replied, leaning over a cooler and fishing out a soda. "Do you want one?" As the blond declined, he plopped down on the couch, sipping it casually. "I've been trying to organize a dueling tournament of my own-nowhere near the scale of Battle City...just a small one. Mai works here, so she asked her manager if we could use this place for dueling. We're just testing it out tonight."

Marik flashed him a faltering smile. "That's awesome," he said, fidgeting restlessly. "When does it start?"

"We were thinking after Christmas-you wouldn't want to join in, would you?"

"Eh..." Marik's cheerful façade was failing him. "Probably not...I don't know if I'll be around that long."

"That makes sense." Yugi said. "I mean, I didn't even know you were in town; I thought you went back to Egypt with your family."

_"Nosy little bastard,"_ Yami Marik remarked contemptibly. _"Who the fuck does he think he is?"_

Marik ignored him, giving a tiny shake of his head. "I'm not really in a hurry to go back, but who knows...Besides, I'm probably out of practice...I haven't dueled since Battle City..."

"Well that's alright," Yugi said with a sympathetic smile. "I really would love to duel you again though, whenever you're feeling more up to it. You were one of the toughest duels we ever fought."

Marik laughed dryly. "Coming from the king of games, I'll take that as a compliment." He could feel his yami straining against the walls of his mind once more, sending another throbbing wave of pain through his skull.

_"He's right in front of you,"_ the voice hissed, his anger rising. _"Let me out...we can still have our revenge..."_

_No...He doesn't deserve that- _Marik cradled his head in his hands. _You're not in control anymore...you never will be if I have anything to say about it. _He was dully aware of the growing concern on Yugi's face. The garbled question of "Are you okay?" barely broke through the haze of pain that had enveloped his brain as his yami pressured him to give up control.

"Headache," he murmured, his voice sounding far-away in his own ears. "The lights...the music or something..."

"Well you're free to stay in here-"

_"-You have a fucking knife, Marik! For Ra's sake, use it!"_

"-For as long as you want-"

**_Never_**_! _Marik quivered, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding his alter ego back. _I will **never** let you control me, never again-"_

"Marik?" He was dully aware of Yugi leaning over him,

_ "DAMMIT MARIK, KILL HIM!"_

"Do you need...call...an ambulance?"

_"DO IT!" _his yami roared. _"NOW!"_

"NO!" Marik jumped to his feet as Yugi staggered back in fright. "Sorry," he muttered. "Have to go." He ran for the door, the pulsating pressure in his head only made worse by the cacophony as he stumbled down the stairs. _Bakura...I have to find Bakura..._

He shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the looks he received from the people around him. As he ran, he caught a glimpse of Joey and Mai, who had looked up from their booth and stared at him as he rushed past.

_Fuck, _he thought, desperately scanning the crowd. _Bakura, where are you?! _

He heard concerned voices calling his name, but didn't dare turn back to look. _If there were any time to have all of this be a nightmare, _he thought, grabbing his coat from the rack. _Please let it be now-_

A hand grabbed his wrist, him jump. He wheeled around to see Bakura's irked glare, and felt a rush of gratitude blot out his headache for a moment. "WE'RE LEAVING," he panted. "NOW."

"FINE BY ME," the spirit replied as Marik hurriedly steered him through the crowd. He glanced over and caught a strange look in Marik's eyes, a pained sort of panic as they stumbled into the cold air once more.

"You know, if you hadn't insisted on coming here in the first place, you wouldn't be so-"

"Can we shut up and save the I told you so for later?" Marik snapped, glancing behind him nervously. They started down the stairs, Marik pulling Bakura roughly towards the street. "Let's just get the hell away from here before-"

"Marik?!" He cringed as Bakura stopped, frozen at the voice he couldn't mistake. He turned as the king of games ran towards him, Joey and Mai both hanging back at the door.

"Oh, Bakura, you're here too?" Yugi asked, the puzzle bouncing against his chest as he hurried down the stairs. "Why didn't you say so?"

The boy shook his head warningly, just as his yami resurfaced, his voice ten times louder than in the club. Marik went down, clutching his head as the same orders repeated. Yugi rushed towards him but Bakura stepped in front of him, bristling.

"He doesn't need _your _help," the spirit said, his voice low. "Mind your own damn business!"

Yugi stopped, taken aback. "Ba-" he looked as if he had been drenched in cold water, realization suddenly hitting him. "You're not Bakura, you're-"

His eyes narrowed suddenly, his manner shifting as the pharaoh took control. "How are you still here?" he demanded, standing a few steps above them. "You don't have the ring."

"Oh very observant," Bakura drawled sarcastically. "You know, it's not nice to keep your little posse waiting."

The pharaoh refused to move, staring from from his white haired nemesis to the youth kneeling on the concrete. "Shouldn't he be back with his family?"

"What does it matter to you?!" He blocked the pharaoh's path as he took a step towards Marik. "I suggest you go back inside. Enjoy the time you have before our paths cross again."

Still he refused to move, studying Bakura cautiously. "Why are you toying with him like this?" he asked, his voice low. "After all he's been though-"

"Oh that's rich," Bakura snarled. "After all he's been through...in whose name did he suffer, Pharaoh, answer me that?!"

The pharaoh balked slightly, grabbing the front of Bakura's coat. "I don't know what you're talking about," he growled, his usually calm demeanor peeling away. "But I think it's best if you return Ryou to his home." He pushed him away, taking another few steps towards Marik. "And I think it's best he stays with me until his family can-"

Bakura lunged, arms swinging as he tackled the pharaoh to the concrete. "You think you know what's best for eveRyoune?!" he hissed, throwing a punch at the pharaoh's face. "You know _nothing, _you arrogant bastard." Joey and Mai ran towards them, grimly jumping into the fray.

_"See, Marik,"_ his yami said gleefully, pointing the boy's gaze towards the fight that was gathering attention from the club's patrons. _"Now's your chance. He's distracted...for once your little friend has made himself useful. Now get up,"_ Marik lurched to his feet, not entirely of his own accord. The fight was swimming in and out of focus as his yami slowly forced his hand towards the knife at his belt.

_No, _Marik thought, closing his eyes and focusing his energy on stopping his hand. _No...I won't let you...You can't make me do this..."_ His hand paused in midair, his head and heart pounding. He knew Bakura was outnumbered, and that if the fight wasn't broken up soon, or the police were to intervene, the outcome wouldn't be favorable for either of them.

His yami hissed his dismay at Marik's hesitation. "_I'm not going to tell you again,"_ he said, sending pressure to the wavering hand. _"Do this, or I will."_

_You **can't.**_

Yami Marik sneered. _"I'm done playing games, hikari. Kill him, or I will take back what's rightfully mine. Then we'll do things my way. _

Marik felt anger swooping up through his chest, a feeling that was completely his. **_No_**_, _he answered, putting all of his strength into pushing his yami away. _I won't let you. I am **not**_ _your puppet, and my body isn't yours. You will _never _have control again, so give it up and **GET OUT**!_

His eyes snapped open, his vision clear. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" he bellowed, stepping forward and shoving Joey aside. He grabbed Bakura by the back of his coat and pulled him away, avoiding his still-swinging arm. "This isn't the time for fighting," he added, ignoring the glares from his right. "We're leaving, Pharaoh. I suggest you either go back to your evening or do the same."

Bakura tore out of his grasp, pushing through the crowd that had gathered around him as he stormed away. Marik gave a shaky sigh of relief, glancing up through the scattering throng. The rest of Yugi's crew had flocked to his side, picking themselves up. Tristan, Joey and Mai were arguing, the later pulling her blond companion to his feet. Téa flitted fretfully between them and the pharaoh, rummaging in her pocket for a tissue for the bleeding cut on the king of games' face.

Marik shuddered as his gaze met the pharaoh's. Only he had looked up, eyes narrowed in question. _Why were you here tonight, why were with Bakura-whose side are you on, after everything? _He gulped and took off at a run, disappearing into the crowd. Bakura was nowhere to be seen, so the boy headed for home, his thoughts hazy. The headache had retreated to a dull pounding, as if his yami had retreated to some corner of his brain to sulk.

_He'll be back, _Marik thought nervously, slipping back over the bridge and past the shop windows. _And I'll have to fight him off again. How long can I keep this up? If he keeps coming back..._He reached the apartment, trudging up the stairs, lost in his thoughts until he reached the door, which was slightly ajar.

_He got home before me? _Marik wandered as he tiptoed inside, only to see his roommate standing at the window, looking down at the street below.

"If you're not out of this apartment in one minute," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You won't live long enough to regret it."

The blond edged cautiously into the room, closing the door behind him. "That's a bit unnecessary," he said slowly, his eyes drawn to the knife in Bakura's hands. "This was all just a misunderstanding."

"Was it now?" Bakura didn't move, though the blade quivered slightly in his hand.

"Of course." Marik took a few steps towards him, frowning. "If I had any idea that the Pharaoh was there, I would never have-"

"Don't play me for an idiot!" The spirit spun, his eyes blazing. "I know you, Marik-how you are, what you've done! What was it, did you call him or the other way around?!"

"Why are you doing this?!" Marik retorted, gaping at his partner in crime. "Why would I want to meet up with _him _of all people, let alone ask him about it?! And at a club, of all places! Considering I almost-" He stopped, biting his lip. He was already on the verge of being kicked out of the apartment, did he really want to make it worse?

"You almost what?" Bakura demanded. "What could you have possibly done to fuck me over worse than you already have? You blew my cover!"

"You blew your own damn cover!" His hands shook, balled into fists as he glared. "If you hadn't attacked him, then he would have just thought you were Ryou and we would have gotten out of there without incident!"

"He's my greatest enemy! Or have you forgotten that since Battle City?! I've been fighting him for three thousand years and damned if I'm going to stop now!"

"That doesn't mean you have to pick a fight with him every time you two are within ten feet of each other! You saw that his friends were there, why would you pick a fight when you know you're outnumbered?!"

Bakura sprang, teeth bared as he slammed Marik into the wall. "I'll fight as long as it takes, you useless bastard!" he roared. "For all of your claims of friendship, where are you when I have actually need you?! I wouldn't have been so goddamn outnumbered if you had actually jumped in to help!" He pressed the knife to Marik's throat, his eyes unwavering from Marik's own. "I guess I should have known better than to give you a second chance."

"Bakura." Marik's voice shook slightly, his gaze refusing to leave the shorter boy's. "You know why I couldn't-I can't afford to have the pharaoh as my enemy at the moment, not after everything..."

"Sorry," Bakura muttered, the tip of his blade digging into the bronze skin, a trickle of blood creeping to the surface. "That's the wrong answer."

"Would you just stop and listen to me?" Marik said, trying to keep what little calm he had left. "What happened tonight was a mistake. And you'll probably find some way to get back at me...but you won't do that by killing me. If you really wanted to, you would have already done it-the night I arrived, probably-"

"I should have-"

"But you didn't," Marik remarked, his eyes wide in realization. "You could have...you had every opportunity...but I'm still here. All I'm asking is why." When Bakura refused to reply, he continued, choosing his words carefully.

"You haven't killed me yet because somewhere in that shriveled heart of yours, you can feel that there's something pulling us together...it has been since Battle City. You can call it fate, destiny, whatever-but it's there."

The knife disappeared from his throat as Bakura turned on his heel and stormed away, a muttered 'Fuck you,' just barely reaching Marik's ears.

"You can lie to yourself until the end of time, you're just letting me know that I'm right!"

Another turn, another glare. "You can believe whatever bullshit you want. It doesn't mean you get to stay."

Marik sighed. "So what, you don't believe in fate?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I do," came the short reply. "But I don't think you barging into my house is part of it. Now get the fuck out."

"Not until you tell me what you _do _believe." He strolled closer, keeping his movements steady. "I'm not leaving without an answer."

"Well you know what, Marik?" Bakura said, his voice steely. "It doesn't matter. That's the truth of it-in the end, whatever I am to you doesn't fucking matter. I'm the spirit of the millennium ring...I exist to destroy the pharaoh-_that _is my fate. You shouldn't get involved with me, nor I with you. You shouldn't even be here, you role in this game was over months ago!"

"If you're so busy destroying the pharaoh then why did we run into him again tonight? Doesn't he have to actually get back to Egypt before any of your plans can even start? Aren't you just biding your time until then?"

A silence, a blank stare that told him he was right.

"I'm not stupid, Bakura." Marik inched closer, until he could have reached out and touched him, if he dared. "I've been here only a few weeks and I see you cooking and reading and just _waiting_...and as much as you try to hide it, you don't mind having someone to wait with. I'd either be on the street or dead in a ditch somewhere, otherwise. You enjoy having me here, and somewhere, even if it's just the tiniest spark...You feel the same way about me as I feel about you."

"Oh?" The knife was still in his hands, wavering as Marik came closer still. His voice was low, his eyes hard as they stared him down. "Prove it."

It was a split second, barely conscious decision. Were Marik thinking clearly, he may have considered his actions and the personality of the spirit in front of him before he took a step forward. He leaned down, resting a hand on his shoulder as he pressed his lips to Bakura's. The knife clattered the floor in surprise as the froze, his shoulders tensed. Marik closed his eyes for a brief moment, an electric shiver ran through his core as he held them together. His mind was abuzz, every thought conflicting with the way Bakura's lips felt on his, the energy of their bodies in such close proximity to each other. Then they separated, the only sounds in the apartment their slightly ragged breaths.

"I'm-sorry," Marik said quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I shouldn't have-" He started to pull away, but stopped as he found a pale, spidery hand clutching at the nape of his neck. Bakura held him there, just far enough away that he could study Marik's surprised face for a moment before he returned, pressing their mouths together once more. Stunned, he accepted it, his arms wrapping gently around Bakura's shoulders. They pulled closer together, hands gliding across smooth skin as their kiss deepened. Mouths opened, tongues wandering out like animals released from their cages and driven into a strange new world. The inside of Bakura's mouth was surprisingly cool and slick and, as strange as it felt, Marik found he didn't quite mind. Over and over they came back for air before diving in again, moving slowly down the hallway. Bakura tugged at his tongue with his own, as if attempting to draw Marik in farther, to consume him. Marik returned the favor, his fingers tangling in the white hair and pulling tightly as he pressed himself to Bakura's body.

They parted again, taking heavy gulps of air as they eyed each other cautiously, faces unreadable. No words passed between them as Marik pressed his face to the pallid skin of his neck, a pulse fluttering madly under his lips.

"Does this mean I get to stay?" he murmured finally. He winced as Bakura jerked him backwards by his hair, the scowl returning.

"Don't push your luck," he snapped, shoving him away. The edge in his voice was still there, lurking a little farther under the surface than before. He leaned down and picked up his knife, sliding it back onto his belt before swiftly heading down the hall.

Marik's eyes followed him, his back firmly against the wall. He stared at the door long after it had slammed shut, barely blinking. Finally he straightened and trudged into his room, shutting the door firmly.

_What in Ra's name just happened?" _he wondered, unzipping his jacket and letting it drop to the floor. His head buzzed with questions as he wandered to the window and looked out over the city, at the lights blinking in the darkness. He went over the facts again and again in his mind, that _Bakura, _of all people,had kissed him...

He perched on the windowsill, a slight twinge of guilt running through him. How many of the tombkeeper's codes had he broken tonight, even in those few minutes? Why had he even kissed him in the first place? Did he regret it?

_No, _he smiled slightly to himself. _If the incident at the club led to this, then I don't care... _He rested his head in his hands and tumbled into the realms of fantasy, of seeing Bakura in front of him once more, and the possibilities of what those kisses could have led to. He chided himself a little; after all, the chances were good that this incident would leave him homeless by morning.

But the fact remained: Bakura had kissed him back.


	8. Morning in Shadow

It had to be there. Somewhere in his mind, the memories had to still exist. From the moment he had slammed on the brakes of his motorcycle, glaring at this boy who dared to get in his way, he had felt a strange pull. A fascination that kept him from simply plowing him over. The millennium ring that hung around his neck was part of it, of course, but only a small piece. Here was someone also trying to defeat the pharaoh, someone who he could use to obtain his goal. Someone like him.

It wasn't as if that'd happened before.

_"So? What's your decision?"_

_Bakura regarded him coolly, arching an eyebrow. "Hasty, are we?" He demanded._

_"We don't have that much time," Marik retorted. "The finals will be in a few days, maybe not even that. We will never get another chance li-"_

_"We would. Or, at least, I would," Bakura interrupted snidely. "Chances to attack tend to come around when you and your target are in the same location. It's all a matter of finding them, and adapting the plan."_

_Marik gawked at him. His fingers itched for the rod, that smart-ass smirk testing his restraint. "You think I don't know that?! Bastard" He bristled as the grin widened, a chuckle slipping from the spirit's mouth. "What's so funny?!"_

_Bakura only continued laughing to himself, pulling the knife from his belt. "Youth," he replied shortly, twirling the weapon._

_"What about it?" Marik said distrustfully. "You're not much older than I-"_

_"This body is my host's. My original form saw the pyramids when they were still young."_

_The blade flitted between his fingers, agitated, drawing Marik's eye. "You mean to say that you followed him all this way, for three thousand years?!"_

_Bakura frowned, his eyes cold and hard as they looked past the blond. "My destiny has been connected to the millennium items for a long time," he said. The blade spun faster, never nicking the skin. "I can never forgive the pharaoh for what he's done."_

_"And what has he done?" Marik asked quietly, curiosity spurring him onwards. Were there more tombkeepers than he had thought? People who could see the pharaoh's crimes against his family?_

_"We're wasting time." Bakura said. "Yugi's friends were headed to the aquarium. We'll need to get going if we don't want to miss them."_

_"Right." Hiding slight disappointment, Marik slipped the rod back through his belt loop, hopping back on his motorcycle. "Give me your knife, and maybe I'll even give you a lift."_

_Bakura regarded him coldly for a minute, then pressed the folded blade into his hand. "If you drop it, I won't need it to kill you."_

_Marik smiled, revving the engine loudly. "You'll want to hold on. This baby goes fast." He shot off, the vibration of the engine hiding his flinch as Bakura wrapped an arm around his waist._

The sun was just cresting over the buildings of Domino City, the neon lights flickering off with the dawn. Marik watched, his chin resting on his arms. He had never really fallen asleep that night, instead staring out into the darkness, trying to remember all he could of Battle City. Had that been the first moment? With Bakura's hands around his waist, his breath making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end?

_There hadn't been much time after that. They had brief conversations, just relays of information. Bakura needed to join him in the finals, Bakura needed to stop losing this duel. Bakura needed to stop fucking around and let the pharaoh attack his host. Then it was over, Bakura was gone, then Odion was gone, and before he could blink he was gone...from his own body, anyways. Desperately he traced his mindlinks back, shoving his way into Tea's mind. She was talking to his sister, and a pang ran through him as he realized that this was the closest he'd been to Ishizu in months. His own sister...but she would have to wait, at the very least until he was back in control of his body to talk to her._

_He hurried as quickly as he could through the darkened hallways, trying to keep the dancer's feet quiet. Bakura's door was at the end of the hall, the ring urging him on, as if he needed persuasion. As if his other half didn't have his sights set on Odion even as he rushed to the spirit's side. He set the ring down by his head, waiting to hear that snide voice._

_"C'mon Bakura, wake up, come on..."_

_The brown eyes snapped open, his hand jerking up to grab the intruder by the throat. His gaze was wild and confused as he pulled the girl down to his eye level._

_"Bakura, it's me." Marik dropped Tea's mind, sliding through the reestablished connection with his partner._

_The spirit glared at him. "Oh yay," he drawled, crossing his arms. "If this is about the duel-"_

_"There's no time for that," Marik interrupted, running a hand through his hair. "I'm-I'm in deep shit, Bakura."_

_Brown eyes followed him warily. "What's wrong?"_

_"Are you blind?! I don't have my body anymore!"_

_"And here I was, thinking you just enjoyed taking the form of a woman."_

_Marik swung, catching him hard in the cheek. "This is serious, goddammit! I need...I need your help."_

_Bakura stumbled backwards, gaze still skeptical. "My help. Really."_

_"Do I have to smack you again?!" Marik spat. "_He_ stole my body."_

_"_Who_ is 'he'?!" Bakura retorted._

_Marik bit his lip. "It's hard to describe...He...he's a different person...he's been there since I was little, since the initiation...when they carved the pharaoh's secret into my back. He would take over when the cuts were at their most painful..." He gritted his teeth, snapping back to face Bakura once more. "It wasn't out of weakness..."_

_"I never said it was," Bakura replied. "So you're telling me that he's taken over your body now...to do what?"_

_"Destroy the pharaoh, and take the power for his own."_

_"So what you wanted to do-"_

_"-Only worse." He glared. "I don't want to destroy the world, not completely. He does."_

_"You don't?"_

_Marik smiled ruefully. "There are some things I enjoy in this world, you know. Things I haven't seen yet...and will never get to see unless you help me get my body back." He sighed at Bakura's still-stony glare. "He also has the millennium rod. If you still want it, you'll have to take it from him."_

_Bakura mused over these prospects, peering into the manic, desperate glint in Marik's eyes._

_"Where is he?"_

_...And then there was nothing. Nothing but the pain, and the flames, and the barest flashes of the duel-Bakura disappearing, limb by limb, as he tried to make him see the danger they were in. His yami's face gazing gleefully down at them from atop the Winged Dragon of Ra, ordering the attack that destroyed them. The flames were all around him, tearing him away from Bakura's side and spitting him out into the shadow realm. The darkness crushing his chest, his head, memories swarming his mind. His father, the knife, the agony, his blood, whose blood? His? His father's? The rod, the laughter, the blood; he was staggering, falling, slipping farther into the shadows as everything bore down on him, crushing him. Suddenly, Bakura's face flashed before his eyes, rage spiking through his chest. _If I ever get ahold of him,_ he had thought dazedly,_ I'll kill him, for stranding me here.__

_He had staggered around for an eternity, fighting the memories with the single thought of finding the spirit and giving him a piece of his mind. It was the least he could do before he faded into the shadow realm's oblivion._

_By the time he found him, he could barely stand. He remembered striking out, raging at him with words that were all but forgotten. Darkness was overtaking his sight, he couldn't stand it anymore..._

_"To think that I ever cared about someone as heartless as you."_  
>Marik's eyes snapped open. Had he really said those words?! To Bakura, of all people? He sat up too fast, clutching his head before grabbing the nearest shirt and pulling it on. He had to know...<p>

_"Where do you think you're going?"_ The pain in his head worsened, back to the pounding drums of the previous night.

Mairk gulped. "None of your business," he retorted quietly. "Go away."

_"He'll kick you out if you try to talk to him."_

"I don't care," Marik replied, his hands clenched around the edge of the dresser.

_"There's only one solution, one way to make sure he never bothers you again,"_ Yami Marik said gleefully. _"Kill him,"_

Marik's heart leapt to his throat. "No..."

_"Kill him,"_ Yami Marik ordered again. _"Before he kicks you out-"_

"No!" Marik repeated, panic flooding his chest as he stared into the mirror. "I won't do it. You can't..."

_"Have you forgotten why you created me?! You wanted to survive, so you'll do what I tell you-" _

Marik clutched his head, nails digging into his scalp. "That's not-"

_"You don't have a choice,"_ Yami Marik hissed. _"You created me because you weren't strong enough to deal with your pain. To protect you from more pain. And this is how we'll be doing it-"_

Nails dug into his brain, threatening to tear him in two. Marik bit back a scream, the chair tumbling over as his knees hit the floor. "NO!" he shouted. "GET OUT! GO AWAY!"

"Marik?! What the fuck is going on?!" Bakura yelled from the other room, irritation clear through the walls.

_"You going to call for the thief?"_ Yami Marik spat. _"Scream for your host?"_

"I'm...fine," Marik yelled back through gritted teeth. "Just fine!"

Yami Marik scowled in his mind, ramming against Marik's mental defenses. "You can't even live on your own without leeching off him, can you? How do you expect to live without me?!"

"That has nothing to do with this!" Marik protested.

"What the hell are you doing in there?!" Bakura's door opened, his footsteps in the hall.

Marik scrambled over to the door, locking it frantically. "Just go away!" he yelled, backing into the corner. "Leave me alone!"

_"Why don't you let him in?"_ Yami Marik demanded, grinning. _"Are you trying to protect him?"_

"NO!"

"Marik, I'm coming in-!"

"NO!" Marik screamed, pushing back against Yami Marik's presence in his mind. "Leave me alone, I said I'm fine!"

_"You won't be able to protect him from me...You can't protect anyone."_ Black and white dots were swimming in front of his vision, as if he were being strangled; drowning in the anger that threatened to consume him. His yami was forcing him down, further into the depths of his mind. It was suffocating, terrifying...like being pinned to a stone slab, waiting for the knife to come down. Something in his mind snapped.

"GET OUT!" He screamed, slamming his fist into the wall. "THIS IS MINE, MY BODY! GET OUT-"

There was a crash as the door rocked off its hinges, Bakura bursting into the room with eyes wide .

_"KILL HIM!"_ Yami Marik roared, taking advantage of Marik's surprise to spur him forward to where the knife lay, still attached to his belt. With a feral yell, he slammed Bakura into the wall, his pupils pinpricks as the blade came down. It quivered against the spirit's head.

"You shouldn't have come," Marik growled, rage and fear swimming in his gaze. His fist was shaking, clenched on the knife.

Bakura stared at him, tensed under Marik's weight. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he demanded, staring up at him. "If this is your idea of-"

"He wants me to do it..." Marik's desperation flashed in his eyes for a moment as he spoke, his body straining against Bakura's. "He wants me to kill you."

Bakura's eyes held no surprise, but instead a strange determination. A dawning comprehension as he wrapped his hand around Marik's. "You won't kill me," he said. "You'll fight it."

He slammed his head forward, knocking Marik to the ground. In a flash he had grabbed the knife, holding it to his throat as the taller boy stared him down. He nodded wordlessly, and closed his eyes, trying to calm his frantically heart. Struggling to keep himself under, he tried to find that dark corner of his mind, the source of his yami's voice. He was falling, slipping deeper and deeper into the darkness, until the twisted face of his alter ego suddenly emerged out of the shadows.

"Well, well, look who came down for a visit," Yami Marik said, strangely cheerful he leered at his other self. "Finally decided to listen? To let me take over?"

Marik stood his ground, steadying himself as he returned his alter's gaze. "No," replied coldly. "This is my body. I'm not killing anyone else for you."

The toothy grin disappeared in an instant. "Really. After everything they've done to you-"

"Who?! Everything _who's_ done to me?! Father is dead, thanks to you. The pharaoh's been dealt with-"

"You let him win-"

"I did what I had to!" Marik snapped. "But that's over now! I'm _done._ I want to move on...I'm _going_ to move on. I can finally do what I've always wanted, live my life the way _I_ want. Not as whatever father wanted me to be, not what the pharaoh or anyone else told me to be...and certainly not what you want me to be. I won't be your host, or your vessel, or your mercenary! And if you can't accept that, then you've overstayed your welcome."

"You'll never get rid of me," Yami Marik snarled, his muscles rippling as he tensed to spring. "You need me, Marik-"

"Not anymore, clearly," Marik snapped. "Get out."

With a guttural scream, the man lunged, his eyes brimming with rage and confusion. He met Marik head on, the two colliding in a flurry of punches. They rolled over and over in the darkness, fingers tearing at each others throats. Two sets of purple eyes locked onto each other, identical mouths set in identical snarls.

As Marik swung, Yami Marik scuttled away, panting as he reeled to his feet. "What makes you think you're any better than me?!" he grunted, tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth. "You had just as much of a hand in your father's death as I did."

Marik's eyes bulged. He charged, tackling him once more to the darkened ground. "I never wanted him dead!" He screamed, driving his fist into his face. "You were the one that killed him! You swung the knife, you stabbed him, it was all _you!_" Every other word came with a punch, a kick, his knees digging into his doppelganger's chest. They flew with enraged abandon; it didn't matter where they came down as long as damage was being done.

But suddenly a sound drifted up to his ears that made him stop, gazing down at the figure beneath him. The face, that twisted version of his own, was grinning, a dark chuckle rumbling from his throat.

"Because you're _so_ different from me," he spat, teeth bared. "We're the same person, Marik. You can't deny that."

From far away, he could hear Bakura's voice muttering words he couldn't quite make out, calling him back. He grabbed Yami Marik by his neck, hoisting him up. "We're not," he said, pushing him away. He stared at him coldly, focusing intently on the figure before him. "I know when to stop, especially on a lost cause like you."

"Kehehe. Look who's talk-" He took a step and was jerked backwards, as if by an invisible chain. He glared at Marik, trying once again to run towards him, still to no avail. "What's the meaning of this?!" He roared, struggling against the bindings. The more he fought, the more chains seemed to appear, wrapping around his wrists and ankles. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Marik shrugged. "As I said. Lost causes aren't my thing anymore." He turned, closing his eyes and looking for the way back-

"You won't keep me here forever," Yami Marik growled. "You'll come back, begging for my help in the end!"

Marik sighed. "You keep thinking that," he replied, waving him away as he floated back towards consciousness.

_"Goddammit wake up, if you got me out of bed just to die then so help me-"_

He sat up with a gasp, his arms flying to steady himself on the first thing he could reach. Bakura's shoulders tensed at the sudden movement, his eyes darting over to the boy. "What happened?!" he asked, trying to pull back from Marik's grasp.

He only held on tighter, unmoving as his tried to catch his breath. "I made him go away," he muttered. "I chained him up in my mind."

A skeptical pause. "Why couldn't you have done that before?"

Another long silence as Marik leaned into his chest, mulling it over. "It's hard to explain."

"Try."

Marik shot him a quick glare. "I...could never go that deep to go after him before. I always had to keep part of my mind conscious, so I wouldn't do anything...anything I'd regret later." He bit his lip, hyperaware of their closeness, of Bakura's chest rising and falling against his. "But I figured you would keep me from hurting anyone, so I was able to...let go, I guess."

Bakura frowned. "Dangerous to presume something like that," he murmured. "Why would you trust me?"

Marik shrugged. "I don't know," he asked, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Why did you break down my door?"

He felt Bakura relax ever so slighly against him, the pale hands caressing his shoulders. "Probably," he said slowly, "for the same reason you kissed me last night."


	9. Attraction

Wordlessly Marik followed him to the kitchen, sitting down as Bakura switched on the coffee maker. The apartment groaned, the pipes banging as the shower turned on above them. Bakura bustled around, pulling two mugs out of the dish drainer.

Marik raised an eyebrow as he set the coffee down in front of him. "Cream? Sugar?"

Bakura shrugged, nodding towards a cupboard. "Pussy," he muttered, into his own black coffee.

"Go fuck yourself."

The apartment returned to its relative silence as they downed their drinks.

"So," Bakura said finally. "When did your yami come back?"

Marik took a cautious sip. "About a week after Battle City...I don't even know if he ever really left. Maybe he was just-knocked out, or something." He sighed, staring out the window. "He's gotten stronger since then."

"And if that continues? If he gets strong enough to take over?"

"I'd rather die," Marik spat. "I won't let it go that far."

Bakura merely nodded into his coffee. "At least this time I don't get to look forward to being blasted back to the shadow realm by the winged dragon of Ra."

"He won't be in control again." Marik repeated, gritting his teeth. "I fucking told you." He leaned over, grabbing him by the front of the shirt. "You wouldn't know what it feels like, would you? To have someone taking over your body? Why would anyo-"

"You don't know that," Bakura interrupted, eying him over the brim of his mug. "I'll remind you, Marik Ishtar...you don't know that much about me."

"Oh?" Marik smirked. "You really think so?" He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. "I know you're a spirit from the time of the pharaoh, you're a thief, a collector of the millennium items, and a regular pain in the ass. You constantly tell me how obnoxious you find me, yet you let me stay in your home, and kicked down my door when I was in trouble...and I can tell you for a fact that you want to kiss me again."

Bakura gazed at him, unimpressed. "You think so, do you?"

Marik leaned over the table, his face inches from the spirit's. "Of course I do. It's written in your eyes. I could feel it in your arms."

"Oh could you now?"

"It won't stop me, you know. You can act as cool and collected as you want." He leaned in closer still, reaching out and twirling a strand of white hair around his finger. "You can't fool me."

Bakura studied him for a moment. Suddenly he darted forward, his mouth banging against Marik's. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, dragging him closer. Marik let out a muffled laugh, crawling over the table and cupping his face in his hands as he deepened the kiss, tongue darting between his teeth. He could taste the coffee on his breath, bitter and dark in his own mouth.

The chair scraped as Bakura stood, barely breaking their kiss as he hovered over Marik, arms spreading beside his hips.

"Lucky guess," he hissed.

"I don't need luck," Marik said, resting back on his elbows. "I need you. Now." He dragged him back down, peppering his face with kisses. The tiny rickety table shook and buckled under their weight, the mugs tumbling to the floor, coffee spilling across the tile.

"Maybe we should move this...elsewhere," Marik murmured between pecks. "Somewhere a bit more private?"

"Mm." Bakura smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the hallway. Gleefully he blew past Marik's door, pulling him into Ryou's bedroom. He had only been in there once; it was larger and neater than Marik's own. It looked almost exactly the same as it had when he first arrived, as if no one had lived in it since then. The figures and models were covered with a thin layer of dust. After all, Bakura had no need for them...

Bakura shut the door behind them, swinging Marik around. "Better?"

"Mm." Marik bit his lip as hands slid over the curves of his backside. "I want this, I want you...but it's your hosts room. Your host's body...He should know, Bakura."

The spirit frowned, his glaze sliding slightly out of focus. Marik watched him carefully until he returned a minute later.

"He says he doesn't mind. Only if it's you."

Marik smiled, looping his arms around Bakura's waist. He had figured that would be the answer. "So," he mused gazing down at him. "Is this going where I think it's going?"

Bakura flashed a predatory grin, his lips caressing Marik's once more. "I think you know," he murmured, pushing him towards the bed and pressing him into the rumpled sheets. Marik shivered in anticipation, his hands tugging at the worn t-shirt until Bakura backed away, letting him pull it over his head.

"Scrawny," Marik teased, trailing a finger down the slightly protruding ribs.

Bakura scoffed. "If you could have seen me then," he said. "I'd have you begging for whatever you could get."

"As if I'd sink that low," Marik replied, resting his face on the pale chest. "To beg for you." he nibbled experimentally at his collarbone, hands exploring the smooth skin of his chest. Bakura's hands slipped under Marik's shirt, making their way up and toying with the raised nubs of his nipples. Marik moaned into the crook of his neck, kissing his way back to his face. Their lips connected and swept the breath from Marik's lungs, tongues dancing against each other. His heart raced, head spinning as he clutched Bakura tighter. He moaned wantonly...and felt a hand on his back.

He jerked backwards, grabbing Bakura by the throat. "Don't," he hissed, glaring down at him. "You can touch me anywhere else, just not there." He grabbed the hand, his grasp tight on Bakura's wrist. "Try that again and you lose those fingers."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, but nodded, yanking his hand out of Marik's grasp. It immediately returned to tracing the curves of Marik's body as the boy stripped off his own shirt, holding him close as his fingers pooled at the hem of his pants. "You did say anywhere," he murmured, his voice velvet as they worked away at the buttons and zippers. "Didn't you?"

Marik's scowl lightened. "So I did." His lips turned to a smirk, watching Bakura's face carefully as he freed his hardening erection from his khakis. "Impressed?"

"Hardly," Bakura scoffed. He slid the pants down the rest of the way, leaving Marik bare on the dark blue sheets. "I've seen better."

Marik pouted. "The hell you have!" he said, pushing him playfully.

"Three thousand years, remember? I've been around...quite a bit."

Marik sniffed. "Like you were out there, fucking for three thousand years-"

"Enough of that time." Bakura raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you really don't want to know exactly how much."

"Psh. Like I care," Marik crawled over to him, hands at his belt, pushing him down. "I can guarantee you've never been with anyone quite like me."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" He wiggled out of his worn jeans, kicking them off the bed. Marik smirked. "Underwear," he laughed, snapping the waistband of Bakura's boxers. "Such a strange concept."

He pushed him into the pillows, straddling his legs and kissing down his chest. "Unnecessary. Too many layers to get through."

"Then take them off," Bakura replied. "And get to work."

The young man laughed, his fingers tortuously light as they dipped just under the waistband. "All in good time," he purred, laying his hand on the hardening bulge under the plaid boxers. "All in good time."

Bakura grunted, bucking his hips up into Marik's. "Enough fucking around."

"Not quite." Marik grinned, massaging Bakura's cock through the thin fabric.

Bakura glared back, a spark dancing behind his eyes. "Sadistic bastard."

"You have no idea." With a laugh, Marik yanked down the shorts, grabbing him firmly. Bakura bit back a cry, his back leaving the mattress as Marik inched back, curled around his legs. His lips hovered inches from the tip, just for a few agonizing seconds before he finally slipped it into his mouth. His tongue, that wonderfully long tongue wrapped eagerly around him, Bakura's body writhing involuntarily. His hands clutched at the sheets, at the pillows; tangling in Marik's hair. It only pushed him down further, until his mouth covered all of Bakura's length.

"How," Bakura hissed dazedly. "How can you be this..."

Marik pulled back, nails teasing the pale cock. "Good?" he asked. "I'm a fast learner." He rubbed the tip of his cock, his own hard against Bakura's thigh. "I had a lot of catching up to do, once out of the tomb. And I caught on quite quickly." He grabbed a bottle from Bakura's nightstand, waving it in front of his face. "I see you were busy last night, hm?" He poured a squirt of the liquid into his hands. "Were you thinking of me?"

"Fuck you." Bakura growled. "Like you weren't doing the same thing."

"Maybe I was." He leaned up and kissed him firmly, electricity running through them as their manhoods brushed against each other. "Do you want this? Really?"

Bakura only nodded, rolling onto all fours. "Really." He glanced over his shoulder, the glint in Bakura's eyes egged him on, bringing him closer. He could feel the slick cock teasing him for a moment before Marik pushed in, just enough to penetrate him. Bakura groaned, fighting the urge to push him farther. Their eyes locked onto each other, both daring each other to move first.

"Get. On. With. It." Bakura hissed finally. He kept his gaze on Marik from there, the boy smirking and leaning against his back.

"Maybe I won't," Marik replied lazily, trailing a finger down his spine. "Maybe I'll just sit here awhile."

"I'll get up and leave."

"No you won't," Marik replied. He sunk in another inch, laughing as Bakura's teeth sank into his lip. "You want it too badly to leave now."

"Fuck you."

"Not quite," Marik replied. He continued to torture him with the agonizing slowness, smile widening as Bakura's grip tightened on the sheets. "Was that so bad?" He cooed, pulling back out.

"You're despicable." Bakura spat. "Why can't you just-"

Without warning, Marik surged forward, his hands grabbing Bakura's waist as he slammed into him. Bakura stopped with a cry, nose stopping breaths away from the headboard as Marik rocked him forward. He moaned at the tightness of Marik's grasp on his waist, the feeling of him moving inside him. He watched him dazedly through the gaps between his arms and legs, the muscles flexing with every thrust and recoil. Sweat glittered on his skin in the low light of his room, his brows furrowed in concentration as he pulled back and dove back in.

With every thrust, Bakura clenched tighter around him, a hand curling around and stroking himself in time with the motion. He bucked back into Marik's hips, sending him mewling in pleasure as they spiraled towards ecstasy. His nails clawed at the pale skin, scraping at his back as their movements quickened, Marik's voice gasping Bakura's name. Bronze fingers overlapped Bakura's, stroking and teasing until the spirit cried out, spilling over into Marik's waiting hand. The young man was only a few seconds behind him, his back arching as he came.

Together they collapsed, limbs tangling slickly as they rolled over and wrapped their arms around each other. Their lips pressed together once more, breath ragged as they lay together, eyes closed. He could feel Bakura's heart fluttering through his borrowed skin, their pulses dancing against each other. A soft smile spread across his face as together they drowned and drowsed in the afterglow, until they both slipped into the world of sleep.


	10. Absence

Marik awoke slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. A draft blew in from the window, sending goosebumps over his bare arms. He shivered and pulled the blanket closer around himself, nestling further into the pillow. He closed his eyes again and sighed contentedly, letting his mind drift back to sleep.

Until a groan brought him zipping back to reality, the blanket disappearing from his legs. He rolled over just as Bakura did, stealing the rest of the covers.

"Do you really want to go there?" Marik asked, scowling. His fingers crept around his shoulder, pinning Bakura to the mattress. "Are you sure?"

"Fuck you," Bakura murmured, not opening his eyes. "Go get your own."

"Your bed, you share the blankets."

Bakura opened an eye, glaring. "I don't remember that ever being a rule."

"Of course," Marik said, climbing over him. "You're being a bad host."

"You being in my bed at all would prove that statement false."

Marik smirked. "That would have happened anyways." He settled back against the blanketed form, resting his head on Bakura's shoulder. "I could make it worth your while," he said, running a hand down his side.

"Don't flatter yourself. Yesterday wasn't that great."

"Liar." He slithered over him, his lips brushing against pale cheek. "You loved it, I know you did." He caught Bakura's smile in a kiss, a hand creeping down the spirit's chest as the kiss deepened.

Bakura pulled away, smirking. "You're still not getting the blanket."

Marik sniffed, pushing him away. "No matter," he said, rolling out of bed and strolling towards the door. "I'll guess I'll just have to take a shower to warm up then. By myself." He slammed the door back against the wall and walked out, smirking as Bakura's footsteps followed behind him. As he sat down on the cold porcelain and started fiddling with the hot water, Bakura slipped through the door behind him.

"You forgot a towel," he said quietly, throwing it onto the counter. "Kind of important, isn't it?"

Marik shrugged. "Maybe I'll just shake myself off, like a dog." He stepped into the tub, letting the water run down his back. "Are you coming in?"

Bakura paused and nodded, following him slowly behind the curtain. Marik grabbed him by the hips, pulling him close and kissing him under the stream of scalding water.

"Mmm." Marik murmured, hooking his arms around his waist. "Good morning to you too."

Bakura reached over for the shampoo. "It's still dark out."

"Isn't it like four in the morning or something?"

"Still dark, still night." He gestured with the bottle. "You need some of this?"

Marik took it, massaging it into his scalp. "You're certainly ruining the mood here, Bakura."

"I need a shower, you need a shower...what did you think was going to happen?"

"More of yesterday, or so I'd hoped."

Bakura shrugged. "Maybe later," he said, reaching up and grabbing the showerhead. "This hair is a bitch to wash, you know. Takes ages to get all the shampoo out."

"Why don't you cut it?" Marik asked, his hands joining Bakura's in his hair. "Would Ryou be pissed?"

"Probably." Bakura shook out his hair, giving the rest of his body a once over before handing the showerhead back to Marik. "It's not my hair anyways. Not my problem for..." He trailed off, turning away. "I'm going to go make something to eat. See you out there then."

"See you..." Marik watched his blurred form through the curtain as he dried off and disappeared out the door, leaving the towel crumpled on the floor. He closed his eyes, letting the water rush over him, dripping onto his shoulders off the points of his earrings. Ignoring the small flicker of worry in the back of his mind, he shut off the water, carefully drying off his hair before wrapping the towel around his waist. From the next room, Marik could hear Bakura rustling through Ryou's drawers. The knot of worry usually occupying his chest loosened a little at the sounds, to hear Bakura so close. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and hurried out to the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot. Bakura traipsed in after him, hair pulled back in a damp ponytail.

"I can whip something up," Marik said, digging a pan out of the dish drainer. "What do you want?"

"Bacon," Bakura grunted, shoving him out of the way. "You'd burn it."

Marik scowled. "You don't know that."

"Have you ever made bacon before?" Bakura demanded.

"No-"

"That's what I thought." He sniffed, plopping four fat slabs of meet into the pan. "You can do the toast. Or tea. Whatever."

Marik shrugged. "Fine by me," he said, plugging the toaster in. As the room filled with the sizzle of bacon and oil and the slow dribble of coffee into the pot, they lapsed into silence, working carefully around each other. Marik watched out of the corner of his eye as Bakura concentrated on the pan, the familiar, faraway look in his eyes. He gave the bacon a halfhearted pat before his eyes flitted over, catching Marik's gaze through the blond curtain of hair.

"Can I help you?" he asked gruffly, glaring.

Marik shook his head, grabbing the toast as it popped up. He buttered it slowly, chewing the tip of his tongue as he stole another glance at the spirit. "Something on your mind?"

There's always something on my mind," Bakura snapped.

Marik shrugged. He slid the plate onto the table and went back for the coffee. "You're distracted again, is all."

"You're the one being distracting." The sizzling spiked as he flipped over the bacon, frowning. "Don't you ever shut up?"

"Maybe," Marik mused, pouring liberal amounts of cream into his mug. "There's a surefire way to make me, if you're interested."

He flipped the meat onto a waiting plate and headed to the table. "I'm interested in my breakfast. And I suggest you become more interested in yours."

Marik pushed the coffee pot across the table. "Drink up," he said from behind his own cup. "I think I like you better with a little caffeine in you."

Bakura rolled his eyes, stabbing at the bacon on his plate. He tore into all four pieces at once, eating as if he hadn't in days.

"Are you really that hungry?"

A shrug. He knocked back half the mug of coffee, staring out the window at the street below.

Marik followed his gaze to nothing out of the ordinary; just the average sunday passersby hurrying home to get out of the cold.

"Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?"

Bakura glanced at him for a second before returning to the window. "Nothing's wrong," he murmured, finishing off his coffee. "I just..." He stood, tossing his dishes into the sink. "I need to go off on my own for a bit, I think. Just to mull things over."

"Oh..." Marik said, sitting back in his chair. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"Whenever..." He went to grab his coat from the floor, shrugging it on. "I'm sure you can find some way of keeping yourself amused without me." Slipping into his boots, he glanced back at Marik, pausing. "Don't..."

"Yes?" Marik stood, taking a step closer.

Bakura turned away. "Don't burn the house down while I'm gone." He said, slamming the door behind him.

Marik stood for a moment, listening to the footsteps retreating down the stairs and out of earshot. The knot in his chest twisted his heart into his throat, spurring him forward to the window.

Bakura appeared a few seconds later on the sidewalk below, his collar hoisted around his ears as he strode swiftly away into the darkness, not looking back.

As he disappeared from sight, Marik sank onto the couch, drawing his knees to his chest. The toast and coffee churned in his stomach, threatening to make a reappearance. The silence in the apartment seemed suddenly amplified, nothing but the creaking of pipes to fill the rooms. He let out a shaky breath, reaching down and digging the tv remote out of the couch cushions, flicking through the channels without really paying attention. He let sitcom after sitcom slip by, blankly focusing on the images flickering across the screen as he tried to ignore the twisting, aching knot in his chest. The sky lightened to grey and faded back to the wintery copper as Marik drowsed on the couch, trying not to think.

_"You're being stupid," Bakura murmured, his head nestled in the curve of Marik's shoulder. _

_"You are." he growled, fingers digging into the skin of his bare thighs. "I don't miss you." _

_"Liar." He swung around to Marik's eye level, taking him by the hands. "You miss me every time I leave." He leaned in, brushing his lips against Marik's cheek. "Just as much as I miss you." _

_Marik's eyes widened. "Then don't leave," he demanded. "And kiss me." _

_"Gladly." Their lips slammed together, spinning stars in front of Marik's vision until he closed his eyes, his tongue pressing eagerly past Bakura's teeth. He pressed him firmly into the mattress, their bodies intertwining as Bakura moaned, his cock nudging against Marik's eagerly. Their lips never faltered as their fingers wrapped around each other, stroking and rubbing to a cacophony of moans. _

_Marik rolled on top of him, straddling his legs and pouring all of his effort into pleasuring his partner, watching his face contort as they hurtled towards ecstasy together. Bakura cried out as he spilled over into Marik's hand, just as Marik did the same. They hovered for moments before crashing back towards earth, lying side by side. _

_"Bakura," Marik murmured, smiling softly. "I think I-"_

Marik opened his eyes, frowning. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, groaning slightly as he sat up. His pants strained against his movement as his cock begged for his attention. With a sigh he shut of the tv, stumbling back to the big bedroom.

"Bakura?"  
>No one answered. Cautiously he nudged the door open with his toe, his heart falling as the bed lay empty. He perched on the edge, frowning at the rumpled blankets; still exactly as Bakura had left them barely over twelve hours ago.<p>

_He could still come back tonight, _Marik thought as he stripped off his shirt and slid under the covers. He undid his pants and closed his eyes, stroking himself slowly. _Please let him come back tonight._

In the morning, the spot beside him was still empty. And so it was the morning after, and the morning after that. Day after day, December's chill settled over Domino's streets, the skies turning grey as snow built up behind the clouds. The wind tugged at the hair of passersby, as they rushed up and down the streets. In the apartment, Marik huddled under the covers, staring out the window without really seeing the world outside. He had lost track of how many days he had flitted between the bed, the TV and pacing around the room, attempting to distract himself from the tightness gnawing at his chest to no avail. It only seemed to grow with every passing hour that Bakura did not return. He groaned, burying his face into Bakura's pillow. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the creaking pipes were his footsteps, as if he had just left for a cup of tea...

_What if he never comes back? _The thought made him shiver, his body curling around the pillow. _He has to come back, where would he go otherwise? _

The pillow smelled of spices and sweat and an odd smoky note; smelled like him...

_He has to come back..._

A silvery hair caught the light, sitting just in the corner of his vision. He plucked it off the pillowcase and wrapped it around his finger, holding his hand up to his lips.

_He _will _come back. _Marik sat up, the pillow flopping into his lap. _Enough. _he thought firmly. _This isn't helping anything, now is it,won't make him come back any faster... _

Marik sat up, kneading his eyes with the heels of his hands. There was a fuzzy feeling lingering in his mind as he stumbled into the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. The face that stared back reflected his exhaustion; dark circles eclipsed the usual brightness of his eyes, his hair matted from tossing and turning in what little actual sleep he had managed to find over the last few days. Patches of stubble peppered his chin which made him cringe-facial hair made him too much like...

He shook his head, groggily searching for Bakura's razor. Though he had to wonder _if _he shaved...those white hairs didn't exactly stand out against his pale skin. He found one eventually, sitting under a wet towel on the counter. His mind drifted as he shaved, just as strangely silent as it had been for the last few days, since he had locked his other self away.

_Never thought I'd miss _his _voice, _Marik thought bitterly, flicking the last of the shaving cream from his chin. He shrugged on his sweatshirt and wandered out to the living room. His phone lay abandoned under the chair, where it must have fallen after the club. He stared at it for a minute.

_Maybe I'll call Ishizu..._He dialed her number, chewing his lip as it rang a few times.

"Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Ishizu Ishtar, Secretary General of the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities, please leave your name and number, and I will return your call as soon as possible."

He sighed, hanging up and stuffing the phone back in his pocket. "Of course you wouldn't answer," he muttered, leaning against the wall. His stomach churned, both out anxiety and hunger.

"Can take care of one of those things, at least." He wandered out to the kitchen. There were still dishes piled in the sink, their coffee mugs from the few days ago. The dregs had congealed on the bottom, mold starting to grow across the top. Marik wrinkled his nose in disgust, wandering over to the cabinets, and flicking them open disinterestedly. A few spare boxes of cereal and fruit snacks stared back at him, nothing catching his eye.

"Fuck, Bakura," he grumbled, heading over to the refrigerator. There was nothing but a bottle of milk that immediately canceled itself out as soon as he opened it.

"Ah, _fuck!" _Marik wretched, flinging the milk bottle against the wall. It shattered with an ear crushing crash, rotten milk and glass flying across the room. He missed it all, grabbing his coat before storming out of the door. He muttered a steady stream of curses under his breath, watching as they turned to fog upon hitting the cold winter air. He glared up at the gloomy clouds above, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Either snow or fuck off," he growled, starting off towards the grocery store down the street. There were few people on the street, braving the cold only because they had to. Marik avoided eye contact with them all, hating every second that the cold bit at his cheeks. Hating every Domino City-dweller that passed, chatting happily on the phone or to their companions. Hating every second that Bakura wasn't beside him...

His stomach jolted as he slammed on the breaks. _What if he comes back while I'm at the store, _blared a warning thought in his brain. He ran back a few steps but stopped again, eyes widening. "What the hell am I doing?!" He asked, face burning as he hoisted his collar up around his ears. _What the hell am I doing? Bakura.-I don't need Bakura! Why should I even care what happens to him?It's over...he should be nothing to me, now that Battle City's over. _

He walked on, merging with the more crowded main street. _Why should I care if he ever comes back? _Flashes of Bakura bounced around his mind; the light shining off the white of his hair, the glint in his eye as he met Marik's gaze. The feeling of their bodies stuck together with sweat and cum, Bakura's breath fogging against his skin as they shuddered against each other. The strange warmth of his touch as they fell back against the sheets.

He sighed. Without Bakura, those would be nothing but memories. Not a promise of ever feeling that warmth again.

_Come back. Please..._

He turned the corner and caught sight of the grocery store and swore under his breath. People were streaming in and out of the store, bags piled high in the carts of those leaving. As he strode through the crowd he caught bits and pieces of the chatter.

"Only a week until Christmas, I can't believe I put it off 'til now-"

"-Didja here 'bout the storm? Supposed to come up the coast and hit right before the holidays"

"Hope we'll still be able to get to Aunt Hilda's house by the twenty-fourth, I hate driving in snow-"

Marik rolled his eyes, darting in for a cart before anyone could take the last one. _Just get the basics, _he told himself, wheeling down a side aisle. _Just enough for... _he frowned. _However long. _With Bakura gone, no telling when he would return..._If _he would return.

_No. _he thought firmly, browsing through the different types of coffee. _No if. Until he comes back...I'll be there waiting." _

Still lost in thought, he turned the corner and stopped with an almighty crash.

"Oy," He shook his hair out of his face, scowling. "Watch where you're-" His eyes widened. "Oh fuck."

"Marik!" Joey said, backpedaling. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Modeling underwear," Marik snapped. "What's it look like, Wheeler?" He backed up and started in the other direction, cursing under his breath.

"Wait just a minute!" Joey barked, his cart wheel squeaking as he hurried after him. "You can't just show up here and not explain yourself. what about the club-"

"What about it," Marik's footsteps sped up, the cart wheel squeaking as he sped along the cereal aisle, throwing a box into his cart. "I'm not seeing how it's any of your business anymore."

"You made it my business," Joey snapped, rubbing the faded bruise on his chin. "Why were you there with Bakura that night?"

Marik's hands only tightened on the cart handle. He hurtled around a corner, knocking a loaf of bread into his cart.

"'Hey, I'm still talkin' to you-"

Marik whirled around, glaring. "Funny, because I'm done talking to you." he said coldly. "Don't you have better things to do? I'm sure the pharaoh has errands for you to run if you're really that bored."

"I ain't his errand boy," Joey retorted. "I'm his friend, like I thought you were-"

He crossed the aisle in a few short strides, slamming him against the shelves. Bags of rice fell down around them, splitting and spilling across the floor.

"Don't take my actions at the end of battle city for friendship, Wheeler. What I do now isn't important to you, or the pharaoh, or anyone else. So fuck off."

Joey's eyes burned as a glared up at Marik. "You wanna fight, Marik? Is that it?"

Marik sniffed. "I-"

"Joey! What's going-" Yugi skidded around the corner, barely avoiding the corner display with his cart. "On..."

Marik's blood ran cold. _Of all of the days. _"Nothing," he said flatly, backing away. "Nothing is going on." He turned back to his cart, his heart pounding.

"Marik." Yugi's eyes pleaded as he pulled up beside Joey. "Can we talk? Please?"

"There's nothing to talk about." Marik growled.

"Then how do you explain this?" He was close enough for Marik to see a hand resting on the puzzle.

"I don't want to talk to him. Or you. Any of you," Marik growled. "Not right now."

Yugi glanced down and jumped slightly, his fingers wrapping around the chain. "You don't have to talk to him." He slid the chain over his head, handing it to Joey. "It can just be you and me, if that's easier."

"Go to hell."

"Oy!" Joey bristled once more. "Don't you dare-"

Yugi patted his shoulder. "Can you go get the rest of the stuff on grandpa's list for me? The sooner we do, the sooner we can get back to card games."

"But-"

"We shouldn't take too long." He flashed a smile at Marik, who did not return it. He stayed glued to the floor, torn between running down the aisle while they talked and giving Yugi a piece of his mind.

_"Kill Him..." _came a faint echo from a deep corner of his mind. _"Do it!" _

_Shut up! _He swiveled and watched Joey slink away, Yugi watching him disappear before meeting his eyes again. "Now, what's up with you?"

"Nothing," Marik spat, turning back down the aisle and striding towards the ramen. "Can't a man shop for groceries without an interrogation?"

Yugi chuckled. "I suppose." He kicked at the already scuffed tiles, frowning down at his feet. "I just wasn't expecting you to hang around Domino this long. Isn't your family worried about you?"

Marik shrugged. "They shouldn't be," he said. "I've got my own life to live, and so do they."

"Well of course," Yugi said slowly. "It's just that...after Saturday..._I've _been worried about you. We all are...worried. After Battle City-"

"After Battle City, my life became none of your concern. " Marik snapped. "I don't need your help, Yugi. Not yours, or the pharaoh's, or anyone else's."

"I know, but-"

"I don't think you do," Marik said. "You'd leave me alone, if you really understood."

"But you're not alone, are you?" He stopped, frowning. "You're living with Bakura, aren't you?"

Marik froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He fondled the handle of this switchblade in his coat pocket, cursing his underestimation of the boy.  
>He turned and caught Yugi's eye, saw the worry in his gaze as he stared right back. Slowly, he let go of the kinfe.<p>

"If you were smart," he said coldly, "Which I'm having serious doubts about, at the moment...I'd back off. You're going to get yourself into trouble, if you don't." He started walking again, breath catching in his throat as he noticed Yugi hanging back."

"You're the one asking for trouble," he said sadly. "The Pharaoh wants his answers. If you won't give them to me...you'll have to talk to him, sooner or later."

He turned and moved to follow Joey, leaving Marik frozen in the middle of the aisle. He stared down at the floor, his stomach churning. He could hear his yami laughing hysterically in the back of his mind, could still see the sad, pitying look in Yugi's eyes, focused completely on him.

"Fuck it," he hissed, giving his cart a good shove and turning on his heel. There was an almighty crash as it struck a display and sent stacks of chips and soda flying across the floor. He ducked out a side door, rushing back into the cold, eyes staring angrily at the sidewalk.

"Idiot," he hissed in a stream of foggy breath. "Stupid, fucking idiot." He wasn't quite sure who he was cursing; Yugi...the Pharaoh...Bakura...Himself...

Maybe all four.

His feet took him quickly to the apartment, where he fumbled for the key with numb fingers, almost dropping the squashed loaf of bread he had smuggled under his coat. The door swung open and he let everything fall to the floor, slamming a fist into the wall beside him. His knuckles buried themselves into the dent from the previous Saturday, plaster cracking and scraping at the skin on the back of his hand.

"Stop that," a voice rasped from the kitchen. "I'll have the landlord on your ass."

Marik jumped, scrambling around the corner and staring at the figure hunched over the table. Bakura's hair was tangled and matted, his face hidden behind ghostly hands. The cup of tea steaming in front of him was barely touched, his fingers merely curled limply around the handle.

"Where the hell have you been?" Marik breathed, ignoring the blood dripping down his hand.

The hand fell, his head tilting back to fix Marik with an exhausted stare. His face was even paler than usual, gaunter, the shadows under his eyes only sucking the life from them further.

Marik let out the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "What _happened _to you?"

He shook his head. "Four days. I told you I needed time to think." He nodded to the refrigerator. "Water. I don't think I'm going to finish this."

Marik frowned, but did so, grabbing a bottle from the fridge. "You just sat somewhere and thought for four days?"

"Thought, meditated," he shrugged, grabbing the bottle and gulping it down. "There's a little church my host attends occasionally...no one bothers you when you're sitting in a church."

"But why now?" Marik asked. "You left me with barely a word."

Bakura let out a half-cough of a laugh, tossing the bottle carelessly into the corner. "You." he said quietly. "I was thinking on what to do about you." He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "I must kill the pharaoh in the end...I must give up everything to do so. And I was ready to do so, in an instant."

An eye flicked open, glaring in Marik's direction. "And then you showed up. Came waltzing in here, fucking everything up and refusing to leave. Making it impossible for me to ignore you, to ignore what would happen if I let you stay."

Marik sank into the chair opposite him, leaning on a hand. He flinched as Bakura's cold fingers brushed against his, curling around them. "And...what did you come up with?" he asked.

He paused, a wry smile pulling at his face. "That it's a little too late to do anything about it," he said. "It's already happened."

"Oh." Marik laughed under his breath. "I guess...it kind of did."

"So I guess if that's the case...we have two options." He traced the edge of the teacup pensively. "You can leave, go back to Egypt or get your own place here...whatever you want...knowing that your feelings were returned in full...we can end things here and that'll be that."

"And the other option...is to stay?"

Bakura nodded. "For now...until the pharaoh returns to Egypt...until the shadow game begins again." His eyes sank. "Then you'll have to let me go, and it'll be much more difficult."

Marik nodded. "Is this even a question?" he murmured, standing and circling around to Bakura's side. He ducked in for a quick kiss, resting his head against Bakura's cool skin. "I don't want to waste time. Pretending that nothing more could happen between us would full under that category."

Bakura closed his eyes again, his shoulders falling in a sigh. "I'm glad we agree," he muttered dazedly, leaning against Marik's arm. "I didn't make it back here just to have you leave."

"No," Marik said. "It looks like you came back here to sleep." He brushed Bakura's hair out of his face, smiling. In his exhaustion, he almost looked peaceful. Marik grabbed the blanket from the couch, draping it over his shoulders. "I guess I can wait a little longer then."


	11. December 23rd

**A/N: **This chapter is full of rather graphic flashbacks to Marik's initiation, so I'm just throwing the possible trigger warning out there for you all. Read on at your own risk, and I hope you enjoy!

_His footsteps were silent as he stole through the darkened hallways, hiding in the shadows between the flickering torches on the walls. His father's outraged screams of maddened panic already flickered through his mind, what would come when he realized his heir had escaped his grasp. _

Brother...sister...forgive me, _he thought as he hurried down the corridor, hurtling closer to his destination. Hopefully they would have enough sense to hide in a distant corner of the tomb, or make a run for it themselves. _May we'll meet again someday...

_Up ahead the torches ended, the hall fanning out into the main courtyard. The moon shone down through the round skylight, their only window to the outside. His face broke into a smile, eyes shining as they stared up at the crescent peeking over the stone. The guards were nowhere to be seen; they were usually at the other ends of the halls they patrolled when the moon was directly overhead, or at least had been every night for the last month he had snuck out here to gaze up at the sky. He took a deep breath and ran across the empty space, past the pillars and hieroglyphs, leaving them all behind as he reached the winding staircase towards the surface. _

_"COME BACK!" _

_"THE TOMBKEEPER'S SON IS ESCAPING!" _

_Marik's heart stumbled as he took the stairs two at a time, trying to push himself further. _If I can just get to the doors _he thought, panting. _I can make it out...

_" MASTER MARIK! COME BACK!" _

_"No!" He could see the door ahead of him, the fire from the guard's torches glinting off the wood and metal. Clenching his fists, he put on a burst of speed, pushing his shoulder forward as he rammed into the door with all the force he could muster. _

_The door bounced on its hinges, flashing a single strip of dark blue sky...but still remained shut His heart stammered and plunged into panic as he stared at the door for an ever-lengthening second. _

_"No..." his voice fell under the footsteps of the oncoming guards for a moment before overtaking them. _

_"NO! NO! NO! I WON'T GO!" _

_The door buckled as he threw all of his weight against it, beating wildly against the unforgiving beams. If there was pain he couldn't feel it, not when he was so close, not when he could smell the night air wafting through the cracks in the door. _

_"I WON'T GO!" _

_Hands grabbed him by the arms, so he kicked at the door with his heels, writhing as they pulled him away. _

_"NO! LET ME GO!" _

_The door grew smaller and disappeared around the corner as they carried him away. He lost track of his screaming as he slipped out of their grasp, scrambling on all fours back up a few stairs before they caught him again, dragging him away. _

_"LET ME GO, PLEASE, I'LL DO-"_

_Had to get away, had to run, had to keep running and never stop._

_"-ANYTHING, JUST PLEASE, DON'T-" _

_Back down the stairs, the moon beckoning him with a grasp he couldn't reach as he passed under its lights. _

_"DON'T MAKE ME, DON'T MAKE ME DO IT, PLEASE!" _

_The moon, the light disappeared, replaced by the fire against the ancient stones. He couldn't breathe, choking as he writhed against his captors' grasp. They ignored his pleas. The gods ignored his prayers._

_In his struggles he glanced up ahead, his heart swooping as he saw a figure standing in the shadows of a pillar._

_"Odion!" He cried out. "Odion, Help me!" _

_His brother stared at the proceedings, his mouth a thin line. _

_"HELP ME, ODION!" _

_Their eyes met for a long moment, just as he passed the pillar. _

_"ODION!" _

_The green eyes dropped sadly to the floor. _

_He choked, heart falling all over again. _

_"ODION!"_

_He twisted around, begging for him to look up, to cry out against what he saw, but his brother did not move. _

_"HELP ME!" Tears wore rivulets down his cheeks as his brother grew smaller and smaller before disappearing around a corner. "ODION!" _

_His own cries bounced back at him, mockingly, echoing off the cold stone. They chased him down the passageways, turning from words into strings of barely coherent words._

_"Save your breath, kid," hissed a guard under his breath, earning a glare from his fellow. "You'll need it." _

"'llo?"

"...You actually picked up..."

"That's what you do with a phone when it rings, isn't it?"

"You haven't been, though."

"Well, I've been busy..."A pause. "How are you, sister?"

"Fine. Busy...The museum's getting ready to repaint the Middle Kingdom wing, so that's been a bit of an undertaking, putting everything in storage. What about you? How are things in Domino City?"

"Just fine...cold, though."

"Well, yeah...Not a problem at home, you know."

"Don't start, Ishizu."

"I'm just saying-"

"I don't need this today, sister! Especially from you!"

She sucked in a hasty breath. "Marik, I'm sorry...I forgot."

"Lucky you." Marik chewed his lip, trying to stop his hands from shaking against the phone. "Is that all you wanted?"

Ishizu was silent for a moment. "I suppose. You're not going to be alone today, are you?"

Marik glanced back towards the bedroom, where Bakura was still asleep. "No...not really."

"That's good at least..." There was a long silence as Marik paced the floor, waiting for her response. "I guess I'll let you go then...if you're sure you're...okay."

"I'll..." Marik sighed. "No guarantees, sister. Not today."

"Talk to you soon then...And Marik?"

"Hm?"

She sighed. "Try to have a happy birthday, alright?"

Marik snapped the phone shut, tossing it onto the couch. "Yeah right," he hissed, sinking down on the leather. It groaned as he curled up in the corner, resting his head on the back as he stared down at the snow drifting past the window. His shoulders were tense, alert and aching as he cursed under his breath at his still shaking hands. His legs twitched, itching to run, but there was no more running. Not anymore. There was nothing to distract him from the memories of the day, no work to throw himself into, no revenge against the pharaoh to seek. No running away from it this year. It would just catch up to him, anyways. It always did, just as they had, eight years ago.

_They pushed through a cloth draped over a doorway and threw him to the floor at his father's feet. _

_"He was trying to escape," one said._

_"We caught him at the door," finished the other._

_His father did not turn from the altar. "Leave us." _

_He dared not move as they retreated without a second glance. His fists shook against the stones at he stared up at his father. His head spun as the incense crept into his nostrils, catching in his throat and choking him. _

_"Father-" he coughed, quivering. "Please-" _

_"On your feet," his father grunted. "A Tombkeeper kneels before the Pharaoh alone." _

_He rose slowly, stumbling to his feet. "Father-" _

_"Go bathe." _

_"But-" _

_"NOW, MARIK." His father spun and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him over to the pool at the edge of the chamber. "You couldn't wait until sun rose, and now you're here, so I guess we'll just have to start now!" _

_"No-" His father plunged his face into the water, cutting him off. He struggled against the sides of the basin, against his fathers hands as he screamed. His father pulled him up, spluttering and sobbing. The hand let go of his hair and he slumped against the tub, crumpling to the floor._

_"Father...please..." He murmured, staring up at him pleadingly. "Don't make me do this-" _

_His father's hand came down in a lightning strike, throwing him backwards._

_"This is what you must do!" His father roared, spit flying from his mouth. "This is your destiny, Marik! And you will take it like a man!" He sneered and turned away, grabbing a pot of oils from the side of the tub. "Now stand up." _

_His heart pounded. A voice in his head was screaming for him to run, to try to escape, but his feet would not follow. Shaking, he pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the edge of the basin. _

_His father sighed, smearing the oil over his back before spreading it roughly across the skin. "It is truly glorious, my son...the role of the Tombkeeper. We are the guardians of the ancient ways, preserving them until the Pharaoh returns..." _

_He was barely listening, his tears rolling down his face and dripping into the water below. His mind was terrifyingly blank. There was no way out. If he ran, the guards would only catch him and bring him back, and his father would punish him further. If he tried to speak, his father would not listen. _

Please, _he begged, closing his eyes. _Please...gods...help me...

_His father set aside the brush and poured water down his back. "Now my son," he said joyfully, spinning him around. He pressed a smear of perfume over his heart, then in the middle of his forehead. "You are ready." _

"You're up early."

Marik jumped, uncoiling onto his feet. Bakura arched an eyebrow over his coffee mug, sipping it coolly.

"Did I scare you?"

"Like hell you did," Marik spat, bristling. "And what the fuck do you have to be cheerful about this morning?"

Bakura shrugged, pushing aside the curtains and staring out at the whitened ground below. "Maybe I just like snow storms," he said. "How the world, for a few hours, descends into chaos as people try to shovel themselves out." He smiled to himself. "At least here."

Marik followed his gaze to the street below, noting the lack of cars on the road, the people trudging through the blizzard outside.

"People stranded, locked in their houses by the elements. Schools and businesses shut down. Few cars can make it onto the road-'

"I see," Marik sniffed, turning away. "You just like it because it means you don't have to let Ryou go to school."

Bakura smirked. "Call it an added bonus." He sat down on the couch, flicking on the television. "Not that I've really been going, anyways. Had him call in a week ago, say he had caught some nasty flu."

"And here I thought it was just you being lazy, lying in bed all day." Marik replied snidely. "If I had known, I would have locked you up for quarantine."

"As I recalled, you spent most of that time in bed _with _me, asshole."

Marik shrugged, shuffling out to the kitchen and looking around. The smell streaming from the coffee maker made his stomach churn, but at least a cup would give him something to hold onto. He stirred some cream into it slowly, clutching the milk bottle in a desperate attempt not to drop it.

"So how long are you going to keep your host away from school?"

"Long as I feel like it." Bakura shrugged on his coat. "Want to go out?"

He paused in the doorway, lips resting on the edge of the mug. "Why the fuck would I want to go out in the cold?" he asked quietly.

"Just a suggestion," Bakura grunted, pulling white leather gloves on his fingers. "Coming from Egypt, I figured your experience with snow was little to nothing, but...your choice."

Marik sniffed. "You make it sound much more exciting than it actually is, I'm sure."

"Perhaps," Bakura smirked. "Depends on your definition of exciting, I suppose." He shrugged. "Well, I'll be outside. Come join me, if you want." He swept out the door and slammed it behind him, whistling loudly all the way down the hall.

Marik harrumphed, leaning back against the door frame as the apartment settled back into creaking silence. He stared at his coffee, nostrils flaring at the smell until he gagged, slamming the cup down on the table and reclaiming his spot on the couch. He perched on the edge of the black leather, shudders prickling down his spine as he closed his eyes, massaging them with the heels of his hands. Pinpricks of light shifted and danced, morphing into candle-flame that flickered as he passed, _as he let __his father pull him along, praying harder that he ever had that, any minute now, he'd wake up in bed, crying for a mother that would pick him up and assure him that it was all just a nightmare that couldn't hurt him. _

_His father pushed him to his knees before the raised platform, turning to the altar. _

_"In the name of the pharaoh," _

Please, let me wake up-"

_"I present my first-born son and heir, Marik-" _

_-_Please-

_"-As future head of the Ishtar clan, and keeper of the tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh, guardian of his memories and of the millennium items entrusted to us-_

I'll do anything, just wake me up... _His father snapped his fingers and the guards reappeared, grabbing him by the arms and laying him out across the stone. There were anchors in the corners of the stone, where they tied his wrists and ankles. _

_"And through this initiation, he shall become a man, and a tombkeeper." _

_"Please," He cried one last time, twisting in his bonds. "Stop!" _

_His father turned, and for a moment caught his son's eye. Pulling the knife from its stand, he held it aloft. "So let it be written, so let it be done." _

"Fuck it," Marik hissed, grabbing his coat from the hook and hurrying after Bakura. The door to the complex was shut, but a cold draft flitted underneath, cutting through the threads of his khakis. He swore under his breath, pushing out into the snow before the urge to turn back grew any stronger.

He sank into the snow as the concrete step ended, dampness flooding the mesh of his sneakers. The drifts stopped around mid-calf, snow clinging to branches in thick, heavy clumps on the trees lining the hidden sidewalk. From where he stood to the street was an almost untouched plane of white, punctured only by a few sparse footprints.

"Bakura...?" he asked cautiously, following the footsteps out from the shadow of the apartment building. "Where the hell are you?"

Without warning, something cold and hard slammed into the side of his face, making him jump.

"The fuck?!" he screeched, stumbling backwards. "Bakura?! The fuck are you-"

Another snowball flew from behind him, glancing off his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed movement against the white surrounding him, some silver dancing among the snowflakes. He ducked as another projectile whizzed past him, heart pounding as he crouched behind a drift.

"Fuck you too," he hissed under his breath, grabbing a handful of snow and lobbing it in Bakura's general direction.

"Not quite," Bakura drawled with a chuckle, his voice already miles away from the spot Marik had aimed for. "Try again."

"Go fuck yourself," Marik retorted, trudging back through the snow towards the door. "I'm going back in."

Suddenly he felt breath on the back of his neck. A hand snaking around his waist. "Not without a fight you're not," Bakura murmured in his ear.

Marik whirled around, shoving him backwards. "If you like the cold so much, you can stay out here," he snapped, taking another few steps towards the door. "For the rest of the day."

He grabbed Marik's wrist, pulling him down into the snow next to him. "If it's the cold that bothers you, maybe we should find some way to warm up," he murmured, lips brushing against his cheek. "If that would be more to your liking."

He paused for a moment, a shiver running down his spine as the snow quickly melted against his clothes. "Fine," he said finally, pulling Bakura to his feet. _If it'll keep my mind off..._

_As he stuck the blade into the torch flame, a guard knelt by his head, wrenching his jaw open and sticking a rope-wrapped bone between his teeth. He tried to spit it out but the guard shook his head warningly before backing away. He tried to pull away as his father strode towards him, trying to loosen the ropes biting into his wrist. _

"Come on," Marik said, his footsteps falling quicker on the snow. "Now." He took the stairs three at a time, Bakura's boots stomping up behind him, hurrying towards the third floor. He grabbed him and pulled him in the door, kissing their way into the apartment. Wet coats fell to the floor Their only pause came at the doorway of Bakura's bedroom for the light switch, which proved useless.

"Power must be out," Bakura growled, peeling away. "We could just do it in the dark."

Marik shook his head. "Candles," he muttered. "Ryou should have some, shouldn't he?"

A match flared in the darkness, moving away as Bakura threw open a desk drawer, rummaging through it and coming up with a handful of uneven stubs.

"Good enough," he said, drifting back over and wrapping an arm around Marik's waist. "Now where were we?"

Marik tried to crack a cocky grin. "My tongue was about halfway down your throat," he said quietly, returning to their earlier lip lock. He pushed Bakura down onto the bed, straddling his chest and slipping cold fingers under his t-shirt. "We better get these wet clothes off you," he said, tugging it over his head roughly. "Wouldn't want you getting actually sick, would we?"

"Just get on with it," Bakura replied, teeth bared. "And for fuck's sake, warm your hands up."

"Why? Is this uncomfortable?" Marik grinned as he slipped a hand down Bakura's jeans, watching him shiver.

"I'm warning you, stop fucking around."

"Or what, you'll fuck me?" Marik toyed with his lower lip, fingertips pressing against Bakura's teeth. "If you want it so badly, you'll have to warm them up yourself."

He sniffed, pushing Marik's hands away. "You don't really want them that close to my teeth, do you?" he asked, fingers curling around Marik's wrist. "It doesn't take that much effort to bite fingers off."

"How romantic," Marik spat, digging under the covers for the bottle of lube. "Can we just do this then? Without the fussing?"

"You're the one with his clothes still on."

Marik pinned him down, smile spreading as his hand brushed Bakura's hardening cock, toying with the zipper of his jeans. "And I don't intend to change that. You on the other hand..." As Bakura's pants left his hips, Marik missed the smile crossing his face, his hands and legs moving into position. He leaned in to steal a kiss and found himself in motion, the world inverting.

"There," Bakura laughed, shaking his hair out of his face. "Better."

Marik's heart stammered in his chest, tightening at the pressure of Bakura's weight on his chest.

"Nice fucking try," he hissed, trying to right himself. Bakura threw his weight against him, the sheets and blankets drifting off the bed as they wrestled.

"Give it up," Marik grunted, teetering on the edge of the mattress. "This can only end badly-"

Bakura scoffed. "For you, maybe." He grabbed him, jerking him back from the edge and slamming him face down into the mattress.

_His father knelt over him, brushing his hair away from his back. "It will hurt more if you continue struggling, trust me." He steadied his hand on his shoulder, pressing him into the cold stone. "Hold as still as possible." _

"No-" Marik swore, trying to twist around-_confused to see a kohl pot and brush in his hands._ His head swam, his vision going fuzzy as his stomach churned. "Bakura?! Bakura?!"

He could barely hear the faint reply, the words covered and jumbled by his father's harsh breath, the swish of the brush before he could feel the cold wax against the skin of his back, and he froze.

_This is really happening, _bleated a voice in his mind

_Really happening. Really going to happen. It's going to hurt. Hurt a lot-_

_He shook his head fretfully, screwing his eyes shut. No, he whimpered to himself. This can't be real. I just have to wake up..._

"Bakura, where are you?!"

_There's no way to wake up from this, his thoughts replied. There's no one coming to save you, no help...it's gonna hurt._

_"Stop moving," his father grunted, cuffing him upside the head. "This needs to be legible."_

_He tried, he tried to stop the sobs leaking under the gag, shaking his shoulders with every terrified flail of his heart. He tried to keep his breathing steady, to not choke on the bone and the incense and his own saliva._

_It'll be okay...he thought to himself. I'll make it through this._

_I have to make it through this. _

_I have to make it through..._

_He felt the kohl leave his back, heard the footsteps of one of the guards approaching._

_I have to make it through. _

_I have to be okay._

_There was no sound but his father's ragged breath and the terrified whimper from behind his gag. He slammed his eyes shut, his fingernails digging into his palms as he tensed, waiting._

_I'll be okay._

_No you won't, replied his thoughts. You're gonna die._

_The knife came down, and he screamed. He could feel every tendril of pain, every nerve snapping under the white-hot metal. With every skillful slice the sharp, burning feeling spread up and down the small of his back, from every stroke of each hieroglyph. His nails drew blood from his palms as it ran in rivulets down his back. The hands with cloths, anonymous, only made the pain worse, linen pressing against the open wounds to try to stem the crimson dripping down his sides. Only made him scream louder, twist harder against the ropes that dug into his wrists, unyielding. Every second brought another cut, another wave of pain. It surrounded him. Smothered him. Drowned him. The room dissolved even as he opened his eyes, the stones awash in a veil of red. _

_Why won't you help me?! a voice screamed in his head, even his thoughts sounding far away. Why have you forsaken me?! _

_No gods answered the cries, the screams that came with another row of text. The pain blurred together until he couldn't tell how much was done, only that there was another stroke waiting after the next. And another. And another..._

_Somewhere in the past, he laughed, perched on a maid's lap as his sister danced to the flute and the sistrum. Ran for a ball and caught it, grinning as he held it up high, seeing the look echoed upon his brother's face. Reading, laughing, singing to the echoing stones of his home; images projected on his eyelids before the darkness overtook them, devouring everything but the pain. _

_"HOLD HIM STEADY!" Hands took his shoulders again, pinning them against the slick stone. The tip of the knife slid under his skin, slicing through several layers between his shoulder blades. The pain from before faded as this new pain slammed it aside, his screams echoing in his own ears, eyes bugging wide as he tried to run, tried to pull away, anything to keep from exploding from the agony. _

_This is death echoed a thought in his mind. This must be death. _

_His eyes flitted skywards, the bloodwashed stones his only view. Let me die-for god's sake-help me.  
><em>

_No help came. No comfort, no end, only the knife, and cut after cut after cut. The room spun and whirled until he closed his eyes, choking, sobbing on his screams as he begged from behind the gag. The pain never wavered as he flitted in and out of consciousness, until he could barely remember how long ago it had started. _

_Please...Let me go_

_Make it stop.._

"LET ME GO!"

He felt something jerk him backwards, hands digging into his shoulders. "Marik! Stop-"

"Please," He whimpered, his eyes slammed shut as he struggled against the hands holding him. "Just let me go...make it stop..."

"I'm not doing anything!" The hands spun him around, shaking him slightly. "Look at me, Marik. Open your eyes and look at me."

Marik blinked, Bakura's face swimming in his vision. His eyes were wide and startled, knuckles white as they clutched at his shoulders. "Ba...kura..?" He stammered, throat dry as he spoke. His hands shook as he raised them to his face. His cheeks were damp. A breeze played across his back, his shirt nowhere to be found.

"What...what happened..." He gasped, his breath catching in his throat. "I was-we were-" Marik pushed him aside, gaping across the bedroom at the disheveled bed. "Bakura-"

"You started screaming..." Bakura scanned his face, eyes flickering across his. "Screaming and twitching...then you tried to run for the door."

Marik shuddered, pulling out of Bakura's hands. "I-" He cringed, clutching his head as it pounded furiously, the blood and firelight still spinning in his minds eye. "Oh god...make it stop..." he moaned, jumping as he bumped into the bookshelf behind him. "Why won't it stop-"

"Make what stop?" Bakura asked, watching him warily. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Clinging to the shelf to keep himself upright, Marik closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I can feel it...I can feel it all..." His grip tightened. "Why can I still feel it?"

"Marik-"

"WHY CAN I STILL FEEL IT?!" He wrenched the shelf from the wall, bent nails and plaster falling behind it. The books fell in a rumble of paper and hard covers, followed by the crunch of cheap particle board.

"I thought I could take it, I thought I could make it through!" He grabbed a fallen shelf, slamming it against the frame repeatedly. "I thought I could behind with the fucking pharaoh!"

_SMACK!_

"But I couldn't-I can't-"

_SMACK!_

"I can't-"

_Smack!_

"Can't escape-"

_Smack..._

"Can't forget-"

_Smack._

The board slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor as he swayed, staring at the wreckage without seeing it. "I want to forget-"

He tipped forward and Bakura darted towards him, tripping over the bookcase to try to catch him as they both tumbled to the floor. Bronze hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as Marik buried his face in Bakura's chest.

Bakura froze, leaning back on his hands as the dust cleared around them. He stared down of Marik, watching as his shoulders trembled.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, trying to push him away. "Come on, get up."

Marik shook his head. "I tried so hard," he murmured, barely audible as his words stuck to Bakura's chest. "I tried so hard to forget...to try and keep it out of my mind..." He bit back a sob, shuddering in Bakura's tentative grasp. "B-but today-"

"Marik-"

"Today I couldn't-"

"_Marik._"

"Couldn't pretend anymore-"

"Marik, look at me!" Bakura grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back to arms length. He caught only a glimpse of the tears in his eyes before his hand shot out in a fist, colliding with his face and sending him reeling. Breaking from his grasp, Marik scrambled backwards, wedging himself in the corner between the wall and the dresser.

Bakura stared at him hollowly for a moment, running his tongue over his split lip. "What the fuck is your problem?!" He hissed, kicking the boards of the bookcase across the room. "Destroying furniture?! Punching me?!"

"I didn't-"

"You're acting like a fucking psycho!"

"I'M NOT!" Marik yelled back, his fingers yanking hair from his scalp. "Don't you dare-you dare call me-"

"-Then stop acting like a child throwing a tantrum!" Bakura took a step forward, glaring down at him. "Can't you tell me what-"

"Go fuck yourself," Marik snapped. "I don't want to talk about it!"

"Then don't." Bakura stormed to the door, throwing it open. "Don't bother coming out of there until your done throwing your fit."

Marik was on his feet in a flash, slamming Bakura back against the wall. "Stop talking to me like I'm weak," he yelled, tears still dripping down his face. "I'm not."

Bakura stared down at him. "I never said you were," he said. "Just...stop crying already-"

Marik roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I don't want to be-I don't want today be like this-" His grasp loosened on Bakura's shoulders. "I just want it to be over..."

"I can't make the day go faster." Bakura murmured. "What do you want me to do?"

Marik chewed his lip. "Don't...don't leave me alone in the dark. I just don't want to be there anymore."

With a sigh, Bakura nodded. "Alright," he said. "Come here then." He wrapped an arm around Marik's shoulders, pulling him close. "Is this-"

"Yeah." Marik closed his eyes, burying his face in the crook of Bakura's neck. "This is good."

..._He was barely aware of the knife hitting the floor as his father stepped away, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Head swimming, he couldn't move as the ropes tying him down went slack and slithered away, hissing over the sound of his own wheezing breath. The room was muddled before him, swimming in the haze of pain and incense that floated in front of his vision. _

_A rough hand grabbed his head, pulling it back as his father's smile veered into view. _

_"...Finishing touch..." He closed his eyes his father drew a stick of kohl across his lids, flicking it outward and downward at the corner of each eye. _

_"My son..." His father smiled, leaning in to lay a kiss on his sweat-soaked forehead. "Finally a man. Finally a Tombkeeper." _

_His father stood and walked over to the pool, rinsing the blood from his hands, humming under his breath. _

_And then he was gone, blotted out by the black dots filling his vision. He slumped against the stone, closing his eyes and letting his mind drift, the pain following him down into the darkness... _

"...Hey."

Marik stirred, blinking drowsily. "Hm?"

"You're going to have to move for a second." Bakura nudged him aside, stretching out his arm. "Cutting off my circulation."

"S'rry-" Marik rubbed his eyes and looked around. "How'd we end up on the floor?"

"I never said I would hold you up for hours," he grumbled. "You get heavy after a while."

Marik shrugged. "What time is it?"

"Dunno...not dark yet..."

"Damn."

Bakura sighed. "So, you want to tell me what's so special about today?"

"Not really." Marik wrapped his arms around his legs, staring down into his lap. "It's a day I'd rather...forget." He could feel Bakura's eyes on him and met them firmly. "Trust me, it's not something you want to know."

The spirit sniffed, settling back. "Well it's not Christmas yet, or New Years..."

"Drop it."

"There's probably a feast or a festival for Egypt...is that it?"

"What part of 'drop it' don't you understand?!" Marik demanded, shoving him away. "I said I-"

"-Is it your birthday?"

Marik scowled. "How about go fuck yourself," he hissed, standing up and clutching the blanket closer around him. "It's not important."

"So you're a year older, big deal," Bakura said. "But still, correct me if I'm wrong, most people celebrate their birthdays. With cake and such."

"Well I don't want cake," Marik snapped."And I'm not most people. Most people didn't have to deal with..." He trailed off, drifting to the window. "What I went through..."

"Your back," Bakura said. "That's what this is about?"

Marik froze. "You looked?"

"Only for a second." He joined him, staring up at the darkening sky. "I forgot it was there..."

A cold draft wafted under the window, chilling their fingers. Marik sighed. "I wish I could," he said, closing his eyes. "I thought maybe I could, after facing the pharaoh and everything that happened..." His hands tightened on the window ledge, scraping the paint off the wood. "Instead I can remember it all, clearer than ever." His eyes shot open, turning to Bakura. "How the fuck is that fair?"

Bakura didn't move, just stared blankly out at the city below. "It's not," he said quietly. "The gods are cruel...as is the pharaoh." A grim smile crept across his face. "At the very least, I can make him pay for all of it."

Marik glared, pulling away. "I don't need you fighting my battles for me," He said coldly. "Nor do I want you to."

"The promise of the pharaoh's torture isn't a good enough present for you?" Bakura followed him, taking his hands and swinging him around.. "What _do_ you want then?"

"This day to be over." Marik said. "Now."

"It will be soon..." Bakura murmured, reeling him in closer. "I could distract you for a while, if that would help..."

As he hooked his arms around Marik's neck, the taller boy shivered. "Because that went so well last time," he muttered, ducking out of his grasp. "I don't think that's going to happen...not tonight."

Bakura shrugged. "Your call." He rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Then what should I give you...it is you birthday after all..." He pulled away and crossed the room, rummaging through the books on the floor.

Marik rolled his eyes. "Look, you don't have to dig up something just to try and make me feel better-" Marik stopped, the candlelight glinting off the gold in Bakura's outstretched hand. "What is it?"

"A ring I've kept track of for a very long time. Hiding it in ruins, finding it again when the Ring found another host, while the Puzzle was still hidden. Lost it once or twice, only to have it turn up in auctions and such...most recently in a certain museum exhibit, right here in Domino city."

"So you stole it from my sister-"

Bakura laughed. "It isn't stealing if you owned it in the first place, now is it?" He tipped it into Marik's hand, curling his fingers around them both. "_Don't _lose it."

Marik nodded, holding it up to his eyes. "I wouldn't dare," he murmured, slipping it on his middle finger. He pressed the cold metal to his lips, closing his eyes. "Come here."

As Bakura approached, Marik pulled him into his lap, his arms tightening around his shoulders. "You'd part with this so easily? Really?"

Bakura's fingers intertwined with Marik's, holding their hands up to the candlelight. "It looks good on you." he murmured. He kissed the back of Marik's hand, massaging it with his thumb. "Do you like it?"

Marik nodded, a slight smile crossing his lips. "You still haven't answered my question, he murmured, fiddling with the band on his finger.

"It's just a ring," he said simply. "But for future birthdays...You'll have something to remind you that your memories can't hurt you anymore." He pulled him close once more, pressing his lips to his cheek.

Marik marveled at the ring for another few seconds, his mouth cracking into a fleeting half-smile. "You're really something, Bakura," he said, leaning in to kiss him back. "Really goddamn something." He wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you," he murmured, so quietly Bakura almost couldn't hear him. Outside, the snow continued to fall.


End file.
